Steady as You Go
by Jack E. Peace
Summary: I'm not calling for a second chance, I'm screaming at the top of my voice... Set AU, "Wannabe in the Weeds." Its hard to live with regrets and Brennan has a lot of them.
1. The Way Things Were

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, if you recognize them.

**A/N**: So, I was listening to James Blunt the other day (hence the summary for the story, it comes from the song "Same Mistake") and this idea sort of came to me. I thought it would be interesting...you might think otherwise but I'll try and have some fun regardless. My first multi-chapter (God willing) "Bones" fic. Obviously set in an AU universe for "The Wannabe in the Weeds." I'm sure this episode has been done to death, beaten and then beaten so more but what can I say...I like tragedy. And I like repetition. So please review, if you feel so inclined! It gives me a reason to check my e-mail.

**The Way Things Were**

It all happened so fast. Too fast for even someone like Temperance Brennan, brightest in her field, weighted down with accomplishments, to process and understand. It was like she was suddenly living in two different universes; in one (the one she liked) she was on stage (maybe she wasn't _too_ jazzed about that part) she was on stage, belting out "Girl's Just Wanna Have Fun" with all her friends laughing around her, his eyes on her, his smile just for her. And in the other, the one that had suddenly become reality, a shot was ringing out through the club, people were screaming and he was on the ground, in an unnatural way, not the way someone would be if they were simply taking cover. Not that Seeley Booth was the type of man to take cover when there was a shooting anyway.

And from then on, everything went by in a blur. Brennan was aware of things happening only because of what happened afterwards. She must have dropped the microphone and jumped off the stage because she was kneeling on the ground by Booth, holding him in her arms, shouting his name over the screaming and chaos in the club. She must have picked up the gun and shot Pam because the woman was suddenly laying dead against the bar.

Angela was screaming somewhere behind her and different voices were shouting for help, for an ambulance, or just shouting but Brennan was suddenly focused on one thing and one thing only, like a horse with blinders, seeing only what was right in front of her. Booth, bleeding. Booth, gasping for breath. Booth with his eyes wide in confusion and shock and pain and she shouted his name, trying to bring his gaze back into focus. "Booth! Come on!" She put her hands on his shoulders, his neck, his face, holding it steady, forcing him to look into her face. "C'mon Booth, you're going to be all right. Help's on the way." Brennan leaned down to hug him gently, pressing her face against his neck.

When she leaned up again, she could see Booth's lips moving but no sound was coming out. What was he trying to say? It looked almost like her name. "You're going to be all right." Brennan assured him once more but her voice was shaking and she didn't feel like herself at all. She felt like something was squeezing her insides so that she couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but hold onto him tightly, trying to anchor them both. In her grasp, Booth exhaled deeply and relaxed slightly and Brennan felt her eyes grow wide and her heart jump into her throat but he still breathing, faintly, barely but he still was and that was the important thing.

Brennan was so focused on Booth that she didn't realize that the EMT's had arrived until someone took her from behind, pushing her none-too-gently out of the way. She looked up in surprise, trying to understand what was happening but suddenly there was a wall of EMT's between her and Booth and she was standing on the wrong side of the wall, her hands open, still feeling the warm of his skin. And suddenly Angela was beside her, pulling her into a hug, saying words that didn't connect together in a sentence, wiping away the tears Brennan didn't even know she had. "Oh, Sweetie…Booth…" Angela looked over her shoulder at the scene behind her and then back at Brennan. "Everything's going to be all right." But Angela was crying too and suddenly Brennan felt cold because, for the first time, it was hard to believe what her friend was saying.

The EMT's had Booth on a stretcher now and her wheeling it out of the Checker Box and Brennan tore away from Angela, hurrying after them. Angela was following after her, calling her name but she ignored her friend, hurrying after the stretcher, her eyes settling on Booth. He was white and motionless and there was an EMT holding pressure against the ugly wound in his chest but it was still an angry red and growing redder by the second.

As though altered by her presence, one of the EMT's turned toward her, the others ignoring her and going on. They, too, were wearing a horse's blinders, focused only on Booth. "Ma'am, you're going to have to stay back." His voice was calm but forceful and he held up a hand.

Brennan pointed toward Booth. "I'm going with you." She informed him, going for calm and forceful but her voice just shook and she was suddenly aware of her tears.

The EMT pursed his lips and his eyes settled on something past Brennan before he looked at her once more. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Only family in the ambulance." Again, he caught eyes with someone standing off to her side and gave a faint nod.

"I'm his partner!" Brennan shouted, figuring she might as well give up on calm anyway. "I'm going with you god damnit!" She felt Angela take her arm and realized that the EMT had been luring in her friend to ambush her. She pulled her arm away. "He needs me!"

The expression on the EMT's face was that of someone who dealt with so much tragedy, handled so many grieving loved-ones that he was no longer affected by her words. "We're doing all that we can, ma'am. You can meet us at the hospital." And, as though seeing something in her eyes, softened slightly. "You can be with him then." A shred of hope that wasn't his to give out.

"Come on, Sweetie." Angela's voice was soft, soothing and Brennan turned to look at her. The EMT was gone when she looked back and the ambulance was all ready heading out of the parking lot. "Cam's going to drive." Angela took her hand and led her over to Cam's car, where the other's were all ready waiting. Brennan had never Cam look so pale, so shaken, not even when she was fighting for her life in a hospital bed. "Booth's going to be all right. He's tougher then this."

They drove in silence, though for the first five minutes Zack had started babbling about Booth's injuries and the trajectory of the bullet and other things that would have made sense to Brennan in another time until Hodgins punched him in the arm and unkindly told him to shut up. Brennan rode with Angela's arms around her, as though she knew how in danger her friend was of coming apart in that moment. Brennan still felt like she couldn't breathe, like there was a gaping hole in her chest and that was what she needed to keep together. Booth needed her, she needed to stay whole. What use would she be to him otherwise?

Finally they reached the hospital and Brennan rushed through the doors with Angela on one side and Hodgins on the other, like they were her personal guard and it made her wonder if maybe there really was something wrong with her. She didn't want to think that it had anything to do with Booth, like maybe things were worse then she thought.

A no-nonsense nurse informed them that they needed to take a seat in the waiting room and a doctor would be with them shortly and when Angela tried to get smart with her she informed them that if they didn't sit they could wait in the parking lot. And so they sat.

Angela held her hand as they sat in silence; Brennan stared at the ground, at her feet, trying to focus on her breathing. In and out. In and out. She tried to give the rhythm to Booth, to help him somehow. What good was she here? Sitting in a waiting room? Waiting.

Sighing, Brennan leaned back against her chair. "It should have been me." She shook her head. "It should be me back there now. She was aiming for me." Angela opened her mouth to say something but she was ignored. "Booth shouldn't have taken that bullet for me. I'm not worth it."

"Sweetie, in case you didn't notice, Booth is madly in love with you." Even in situations like this, Angela managed to speak with her usual frank, day-time-talk-show-host voice. "You were worth it to him."

Brennan shook her head. "It should have been me." Angela's words didn't even register on her, except for the word "love." Was that what she was feeling now? The reason she couldn't breathe, the reason she was falling apart in her? Her feelings toward Booth? Had she been oblivious or just in denial? Unwilling to admit them to herself or anyone else for fear of being hurt. Like she was now.

Knowing that nothing she said would help Brennan, would help her get such ideas out of her head, Angela fell silent, settling instead for just holding her hands. Brennan grew quiet as well, counting the black tiles on the checkerboard flooring to see if they were even with the number of white tiles, occasionally losing count just so she would have to start over and still have something to do.

Years later, and all too soon, an exhausted looking doctor appeared, the front of his scrubs slightly stained with blood; Brennan felt her heart join the black and white tiles on the floor. The doctor flipped through the chart in his hands. "Is there anyone here for…" He had yet to find the name but she was all ready on her feet. "An Agent Booth? Seeley Booth?" The doctor lifted his head to find Brennan standing in front of him and he blinked, surprised. "You with Seeley Booth?" He questioned unnecessarily.

"I'm his partner. His FBI partner." Brennan told him frankly, quickly, in a _let's get on with it_ tone. She could feel five pairs of eyes on her back, watching the doctor but not intruding on their conversation, even though it was hardly private. "Where is he? Can I see him now?"

Clearing his throat, the doctor pursed his lips. "Miss-"

"Doctor. Dr. Temperance Brennan." As though it were important now.

Again, the doctor only cleared his throat. "Dr. Brennan. Unfortunately…the damage that your partner sustained from the bullet far greater than we anticipated. By the time he arrived in the OR he had lost too much blood…" Brennan was staring at the doctor's face but she wasn't seeing him anymore. All she was seeing was Booth, smiling at her, laughing as she danced on stage…Booth laying in her arms, losing too much blood. "I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan, for your loss…"

Behind her she could hear the rest of them reacting to what the doctor was saying. Angela, who drew in a deep breath and immediately burst into tears; Cam just inhaled sharply and Brennan could picture her pursing her lips to keep from having a similar reaction to Angela's, even as her eyes were filling with tears. Hodgins would undoubtedly be taking Angela in his arms, smoothing down her hair and holding her while Sweets leaned back in his seat and tightened his hands into fists. And Zack, just trying to make sense of it all.

But all Brennan could do was stare at the doctor. She no longer felt like she was in the room, felt like she had left herself somewhere far behind. She was cold, empty and somehow it felt like she were drowning, unable to surface. "Booth is dead." It wasn't a question, nor did she need the clarification that the doctor's slow nod gave her. "Can I see him?"

The doctor looked almost surprised. "Dr…I don't believe…"

"I need to see him." Brennan's voice was firm and calm, rational, as always. "I would like to see him. Please." The last part was a courtesy, the type of thing Booth would whisper for her to remember to do.

Again, the doctor hesitated but then nodded. "For only a moment, Dr. Brennan." He gestured for her to follow him down the hallway. "We're going to need the OR." Brennan knew little about this part of life: the part before death, the part that ushered life to a close. But it didn't strike her as odd; it made sense that life and death would still continue on, that she couldn't expect the cycle to give her a chance to slow down and process the way things were.

Inside the OR there was a nurse, cleaning up what they would no longer need, what would no longer help Booth. She looked up when the doctor entered and her eyes fell on Brennan and she was only too eager to give the room up. And there was Booth, on the table, a white, but crimson spotted sheet pulled up around him. He had been disconnected from the monitors, it was only him now, or what was left of him.

The doctor started to say something, then thought better of it and left the room, the door swinging shut silently behind him. For a moment, Brennan stood by the entrance, staring at the still lump that was now her partner. She had never been afraid to approach Booth before.

Slowly, she walked to his side and pulled back the sheet. His eyes were closed and his face still with the serenity that only death could bring to some. Brennan stared down at him, finding it hard to recognize the person that she was now seeing. This was not Booth, not her partner. There was some mistake, she thought with relief; her partner was recovering nicely, eating pudding and watching old black and white movies on the hospital television.

Again, Brennan wasn't aware of the tears in her eyes until they fell on her cheeks and she wiped them away angrily. "Why did you do that?" She all but shouted at the still form in front of her. "You should have let her shoot me." But there was no response. "What's Parker going to do without you now? What am I going to do without you?"

Pursing her lips didn't keep her from crying. "What am I going to do?" Brennan rested her hand on his cheek, growing colder by the second. "You never even gave me a chance. You should know better…I'm not smart." Booth would have argued with her. "Not smart about what you're supposed to say to people, how you're supposed to act." She kept her hands on his face and she just wanted him to open his eyes. "Maybe…Booth…Angela was right. Angela was right about me…about us…I should have said it before. I love you…" Her tears fell on his forehead. "How could you leave me?"

Brennan didn't try to keep from weeping now, leaning down so that their foreheads touched. There was so much to cry for it seemed; it seemed impossible that she would ever be able to stop. The regret was consuming her now, regret for all the times she had teased Booth, been a pain in the ass and made his life and his job far more difficult. Regret for never being able to tell him how she really felt, for missing her chance to be happy, to make him happy. She had subconscious told herself that she had kept her feelings from herself, from Booth to keep from getting hurt but her heart was breaking more then she ever thought possible. Maybe it was best that she hadn't told him, hadn't opened herself up because things probably would have ended the same, if not tonight then some other time and it would have been far worse.

But why wasn't that consolation? Even with that logic, Brennan couldn't argue the fact that she wished, more then anything, that she hadn't been afraid to trust Booth completely, to allow him to have that part of her.

The door opened so soundlessly behind her that Brennan didn't hear the room's new occupant until he spoke, causing her to jump in surprise and turn in his direction, angry that he had dared to interrupt her and Booth one last time. There was something strange about the man that she couldn't quite put her finger on; perhaps it was the fact that he seemed to have no determent age other than adulthood, no definite features or characteristics. "Lot of regrets?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Brennan thought it looked almost as though he were about to smile. "What do you want?" She questioned, wiping her cheeks angrily. Why couldn't they just leave her alone for once, leave her with Booth for these last few minutes.

"You look like you have a lot of regrets." The man continued, ignoring her question. "Hard to live a life…all those regrets."

For a moment, Brennan almost informed him that whatever she had now wouldn't be considered a life, not without Booth to show up and bust her chops every waking moment (and in her dreams at times) that it would be little more then a zombie existence. But he didn't deserve to know that much about her. "If you need the room…" She cast one glance at Booth before starting toward the door.

But the man didn't move from her path, holding up a hand to keep Brennan from leaving the room. "If you had a second chance, would you be able to use it wisely?" He was smiling now, an oily kind of gesture. "No regrets?"

Now Brennan looked at him, really looked at him, her brow knitting in confusion. "What are you talking about?" She questioned sharply.

"A second chance…" The man looked from her to Booth and back again. "You must want one now. To say all those things you never got to say…" He grinned wider.

Glancing over her shoulder, Brennan found that it physically hurt to see Booth like that. "Yes…" That simple word left her lips before she could even think.

She felt the man's hand close around her wrist and then everything went black.


	2. Eyes Wide Shut, Unopened

**AN: **Holy cow! Thanks for all the reviews! I'm glad that you guys like the story so far, I hope I don't disappoint. I hope that every stays in character too, because that's a huge worry of mine; if they don't, feel free to let me know if your review :) I apologize in advance for any inaccuracies regarding the science aspect in the story. What I know about forensics comes from watching the show and reading Kathy Reichs' books. But I try anyway... So, I hope you continue to enjoy and please keep reviewing!!

**Eyes Wide Shut, Unopened **

"Bones…? Bones…?" The voice was barely audible, like something from a dream, but oh so familiar. And Brennan could feel the edges of tragedy, of heartbreak tickling the back of her subconscious, connected with the voice so she kept her eyes shut tight to hold onto this dream for a little longer. "Bones…" She shook slightly, odd for a dream. "Angela, get me some water."

Slowly, heavily, Brennan heard herself saying, "Don't pour water on me." The voice, that familiar voice laughed, started an "I-told-you-it would-work" and her eyes flew open. There he was, his face hovering inches from her own, a smile on his lips, a sparkle in his eyes. Booth. A far cry from how she had last seen him. What a horrid but oh-so pleasant dream.

Before she could stop herself (it was _her_ dream anyway, why not do what she wanted?), Brennan jerked upright (maybe a little _too_ fast, even for a dream, her head swum) and threw her arms around Booth's shoulders, pressing her face against his shoulder, inhaling deeply. She had never dreamed so vividly before, she could smell him, feel him warm and solid beneath her.

"Whoa, Bones." Booth pulled her away from him and looked at her, his brow knitted. "You all right?" He tapped the back of her head. "Maybe you should see a doctor, you might have a concussion."

Matching his confused expression, Brennan looked at him. It seemed strange that she would dream of something like this, sitting on the floor with Booth in her office with Angela in the doorway (what, exactly, was her subconscious trying to tell her?) and she looked around. She was beside her bookcase and two texts were laying on the ground to her left, flopped open and crooked, like someone had just tossed them there. "What's going on?" Brennan suddenly became aware of her throbbing head, something she never would allow in one of her dreams.

Now Booth looked honestly concerned. "You fell off your chair, getting some books off the top shelf."

Suddenly she remembered, she could feel the _déjà vu _in the pit of her stomach, that nagging feeling. "You scared me." Brennan looked at Booth closely and saw a bit of guilt flicker in his eyes. "You just barged in here and I slipped…" Yes, she remembered it now: going into her office to grab some text books she thought might help Zack with the remains he was studying and Booth came in, loud and showy as always and when she had jumped, turning in his direction, she had slipped off the edge of her chair. And hit her head. And woken to Booth telling Angela to get him water to splash in her face to bring her around. Yes, she remembered it all…events of a week ago. Why would she be dreaming about them now?

"Who knew you were so skittish Bones?" Booth smiled. "You do remember your name right?" She opened her mouth but he didn't give her the chance to reply. "My name? Where you work? Didn't kill any of those brain cells, did you? Though you probably have plenty to spare." Again, Brennan tried to reply but wasn't given the chance. "How many fingers?"

Figuring that she wouldn't get anywhere until she complied, Brennan muttered, "Three."

With another smile, Booth tapped the edge of her nose. "Good as new." He stood and held out his hand for her. She took it, still confused and he hauled her to her feet, causing her head to swim once more. Again she thought of the way it had felt to see him lying on the table, pale and motionless, cold beneath her hands and Brennan felt her heart lurch. His hand was so warm against hers now that she couldn't help but tighten her grip.

From the doorway Angela was watching and raised an eyebrow at the gesture, a smirk turning up the corners of her lips. "No permanent brain damage, Sweetie? Shift in personality perhaps?" She smiled wider. Brennan ignored her, finding it hard to pay attention to her friend when she was standing next to one very alive Booth. She was definitely going to have to thank her subconscious for this one.

Booth shrugged dismissively. "Eh, she's fine. Right Bones?" Another nod but she was struck silent. He was just so…Booth. So perfect. She wanted to cry all over again, to hold him until she woke up again, clutching at empty air and forgetting how to breathe. Booth didn't seem to be noticing the way she was staring, like he had developed an extra eye, continuing on with, "Good enough to get back to work." He gave her a look that suggested he doubted even a concussion could keep her away from remains. "Got something I'm sure you're just going to love."

Brennan slowly shook her head. This was not the way she wanted to spend her dream with Booth: looking at bones and crime scenes, things she did in life. She wanted to…well…she thought about all the things she had wanted to say in the OR, everything she wished she had said when Booth was alive and smiling like he was now. All the regrets she'd had, standing there beside him…

Regrets. What was it about that word that seemed so familiar? Standing in the OR with Booth…the strange man who had kept her from leaving, he had talked about regrets, about second chances… But it was impossible. Things like that just didn't happen, not in real life, not past all her hoping and desire that she really would get a second chance, another chance with Booth. To have him back again, she would do anything.

And yet…here he was now. And this didn't seem much like a dream, not with her pounding head and Angela's smirk and knowing expression that no dream could reproduce. And the absolute solidarity of Booth beside her, the reality and certainty of his presence. But Brennan was far too rational to believe that people could just rewind parts of their lives they didn't life, that people could actually get second chances. Life wasn't about second chances.

Just a very vivid dream. A very nice dream she hoped she never woke up from, even if all she did endlessly was find remains with Booth and identify victims. But wouldn't it be nice if…

Unable to keep herself from hoping, Brennan decided to put her dream theory to a test once and for all. She'd had plenty of dreams where she had just wanted to wake up and had always prided herself on being able to pull herself from them, to distinguish fiction from reality even in sleep. So she pulled her hand from Booth's and slapped herself across the face, her tried and true method for escaping those room full of snakes dreams. It might force her to wake up, but maybe it was better that way; she couldn't live in a dream world where Booth was still alive forever.

Booth and Angela gaped at her in surprise. "Sweetie?" Angela came to her side. "Are you all right? Maybe you really should see a doctor."

Blinking, Brennan looked at her. She looked real. She looked at Booth and he (fortunately) still looked as real as ever. "I…I thought I might be dreaming." She muttered, feeling foolish all of the sudden. She wondered how she must look to the two people standing beside her: staring around her like a zombie then slapping herself across the face. Hardly rational behavior.

Pursing his lips, Booth muttered, "Okay" in a way that drew the word out into at least five syllables. "Maybe you should, you know," he took her by the elbow and started steering her toward her desk, "just sit this one out, Bones. See that doctor."

But Brennan quickly shook her head. "No, I'm fine. Really." She smiled widely, genuinely. "I'm really fine." Booth and Angela still seemed unconvinced. "I want to go with you. To the remains. To identify them." She nodded.

When they thought she wasn't looking, Booth and Angela exchanged a glance. "All right…" Booth let go of her. "But if you go all, ya know, _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_ on me, I'm not taking you to the crime scene."

"I don't…know what that means." Brennan looked from Booth to Angela and back again. "Body snatchers…? Swapping bodies is scientifically improbable." Booth rolled his eyes and seemed reassured of her well-being.

Scientifically improbable…just like waking up to find you had rewound your life a week and are preparing to solve a crime with your previously dead partner. Not that Brennan was inclined to argue in this case.

* * *

In the car, Booth couldn't keep from glancing at Brennan out of the corner of his eye, feigning a disinterest in his partner that he wasn't entirely sure she believed. He couldn't believe that he was worried about Temperance Brennan, the woman who had shot a man in the leg because he threatened to light her on fire, who had faced down a voodoo cult, been buried alive underground for thirteen hours and dealt with her fugitive, murderous father because of a little bump on the back of her head. But he couldn't help himself: Brennan was hardly acting like the woman he knew so well, maybe she had really given herself a sizable knock. And then there was the way she couldn't seem to stop looking at him, not like she wanted to push him under the wheels of the car or that she couldn't stand his presence, but like she hadn't seen him in days, like she couldn't believe that they were seated in the same car, even though it was something they did on a daily basis. And, if Booth wasn't mistaken, he thought he saw the faint signs of affection in her smoky eyes, the sort of look she got whenever he managed to catch her off guard and vulnerable.

Brennan looked over at him and Booth jerked his head away quickly, figuring that he looked just as guilty as he would have if he'd kept staring at her. "Are you sure you're all right, Bones?" He cleared his throat, trying to look more casual as his eyes slid back to her. Her eyes were still on his face, those clear baby-blues burning a hole in him. She didn't seem concerned about hiding her staring. "Aren't you supposed to be asking me about the case or…boring me to death?" He smiled.

Blinking, as though trying to shake herself from a dream, Brennan repeated, "The case." She knew that she had better throw herself back into reality because, though she couldn't explain it, even with every cell in her brain, this was starting to seem less and less like a dream with everything second. Perhaps the whole shooting, the case with the singer and the unhappy ending it had brought with Pam had been the dream and she had finally woken up. But, if that was the case, it was the longest dream she'd ever had and it had seemed far too real…leaving the only option being that somehow, some (unscientific) way, she had gotten a second chance. A second chance to do what exactly? It had been easy to say those words when Booth had been…when she had thought that she'd lost her chance, it had been so easy to admit to her feelings, to wish that she had done things differently. But now, now the words choked her if she even thought about them; if she looked at Booth and thought about all the things she had wanted in that OR, everything she felt she had lost by being unable to make the smallest (hardly) of confessions to her partner, she felt like she was going to stop breathing. Things had been different when the choice had been made for her, when she hadn't had a say in the way things were. But now that she had that second chance, that ability to erase her regrets, all the things that had kept her silent before came slamming back at full force: work, obligations, the potential of things growing awkward at work and…the idea that Booth might not feel the same way. There were just too many factors in this equation now. The chance of being hurt all over again, in a different way.

And yet, when Brennan looked at Booth, she was filled with the irrational certainty that he would never hurt her.

Brennan gave a little jump in surprise when Booth snapped his fingers in front of her face. She really needed to stop removing herself so successful for the present situation, it wasn't like her. "That's it, I'm pulling over." Before Brennan could protest, Booth flipped on the siren and pulled the type of illegal U-turn that most drivers wished they could get away with.

"Wha-Booth!" Brennan protested as the car bumped into a used car lot, getting nervous looks from the employees. "What are you doing?" He shut the car off, crossing his arms over his chest. "We have remains to examine."

Looking over at her, Booth raised an eyebrow. "I'm taking you to a hospital, Bones."

Rolling her eyes at his overprotective, alpha tendencies, Brennan shook her head. "I'm fine, Booth. I fell off a chair, I bumped my head, hardly enough to keep me from doing my job."

Pursing his lips, Booth gave her the once over. He didn't want to admit that he was genuinely concerned about her wellbeing, that the idea of something happening to her made his stomach turn over in an impressive display of acrobatic skill. But she looked fine now…more like herself, that fire was back in her eyes. Even if she was still looking at him like she had never expected to see him again. It unnerved him slightly but more then that it…comforted him, feeling her gaze on him like that, knowing that she was watching.

The employees of the used car lot were still watching them closely, getting more nervous by the second. Booth could see the boss taking a few steps in their direction, only to take another step backwards, rethinking his advances. Booth couldn't help but wonder what type of operation they were running here.

"Booth!" Brennan snapped, impatient. "I'm fine. Let's go." She reached for the siren again, snapping it on before he could slap her hand away. "Fine. Let me drive." She went to undo her seatbelt.

At the comment, Booth rolled his eyes. "I don't think so." He felt reassured on her mental abilities. She sounded like the old Bones now. He started the car again. "I want to get there in one piece."

* * *

Even if Booth and Brennan arrived at the crime scene in one piece, the victim they were there to meet was most certainly not. Their car joined the countless others that were parked on top of an embankment, indicating that the action was below them, down the slope in what appeared to be an outlet point for a large pipe. Even now the rusted, mildewed pipe was spurting out muddy water and other sewage and Booth wrinkled his nose against the smell. The ground around the pipe was marshy and soft and he tried not think about what he was stepping in, what had piled up after years and years of drainage.

As he and Brennan carefully made their way down the hill, Booth explained what little he knew about the case, the things he should have mentioned in the car if he hadn't been otherwise distracted. "EPA worker found the victim today when she was stopping by to check the area." He explained, nearly losing his footing, cursing under his breath.

Brennan pulled her hair into a ponytail, a professional gesture. "EPA is not doing a good job with this site." She remarked with a raised eyebrow as they stepped onto the soggy ground, which yielded under their feet. The EPA worker in question happened to be in earshot and glared in Brennan's direction.

Clearing his throat and trying to breath through his nose, Booth shrugged. "Well…that may be but…" He caught the look of the rattled EPA worker and cleared his throat again. "Anyway…said she saw a skull and," he clicked his tongue and gestured toward the slope, "skedaddled."

The closer they got to the pipe, the marshier the ground became and Booth looked down at his feet in disgust. Wouldn't be the first pair of pants he'd lost to this job. Brennan didn't seem bothered, which didn't surprise Booth whatsoever; the intensity in her eyes was a change from what he had seen in the car, the sort of fire that burned when she was face to face with what she did best. Kneeling down in spite of the soggy ground, Brennan studied the skull closely, pulling out her recorder. "Victim appears to be female, early twenties." She pulled on her gloves and gently nudged the skull from one side to the other. "Remains still contain some flesh, but most of the features have all ready decomposed." She looked down, searching for the rest of the skeleton, only to look at Booth with hint a disappointment. "Where's the rest of the skeleton? Only the clavicle, some of the cervical vertebrae and a," Brennan regarded the remains once more, "right humerus are present." She got to her feet, switching off the recorder.

Swatting at the flies buzzing around him, Booth questioned, "The what?" Breathing through his mouth didn't seem to helping as much as he would have liked.

Before Brennan could repeat her question, one of the CSU agents off to their left shouted, "I got a…bones…here!" He waved his arm over his head, calling them in his direction.

Carefully, Brennan and Booth picked their way over toward the CSU investigator. "Could have mentioned it was in a dump." Booth muttered. "Would that have been so hard? 'Pack goulashes, it's in a dump.'" He shook his head.

"Technically speaking, this isn't a dump." Brennan remarked as they walked. She found herself sticking closer to him then usual, as though unwilling to let him out of her sight. "It's an unfortunate recipient of point-source pollution." She pointed toward the pipe. "That probably feeds into a factory or assembly plant and all their waste gets dumped here. It's actually illegal."

Shaking his head, Booth muttered, "Thanks for the tip, Bones" but she ignored him in favor of the bones the CSU had uncovered.

Once more, Brennan kneeled, recorder in hand. "Most of the skeleton appears to be intact here, with only a few vertebrae missing and a femur. Bone growth confirms victim's gender and approximate age." She glanced over her shoulder, toward the skull. "Body was likely scavenged, hence the separation."

"Great, well…cause of death?" Booth questioned, knowing that he was being overly hopeful at this moment.

Brennan stood, accepting Booth's hand. "I'll have to look more closely back at the lab." She informed him frankly.

Nodding, Booth clapped his hands together. "Let's get this baby moving then. I think my shoes are rotting off my feet."

"Highly unlikely."

"It's a figure of…never mind, forget it."


	3. You Roll the Dice

**AN**: Again, thanks so much for the reviews! Checking my e-mail is fun again! And thanks for the input on the character's staying in character. Feel free to continue to keep me in line. I'm so glad that you guys are enjoying the story so far, hope I don't disappoint. Thanks to all the people who've been reviewing and adding the story to their alerts. Keep it up, thanks!

**You Roll the Dice But You're Just Hoping That the Rules Change **

"What is that smell?" Dr. Jack Hodgins wrinkled his nose as he stepped into the lab, glancing in the direction of Booth and Brennan.

Narrowing his eyes, Booth snapped, "You work with bugs and slime and God knows what other _crap_ all day and two people who spent ten minutes in a _dump_," Brennan opened her mouth but he didn't give her the chance to correct his terminology yet again, "smell bad to you?" He raised an eyebrow.

Hodgins held up his hands, rolling his eyes. "Chill, man. Making an observation." He snapped on a pair of gloves and went to join Angela beside the examining table.

Looking up, Angela raised an eyebrow; while everyone else in the room might have noticed the way that Brennan seemed to be staying far closer to Booth then she ever bothered to do before, the fact was not missed on her. "How's the head, Bren?" She questioned. "Any more relapses?"

Brennan looked over at Booth, as though daring him to mention their little visit to the used car lot but he only smirked, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "No, I'm fine." She hated it went people fussed over her and Angela's comment now called unnecessary attention to her. "Just a bump." She, reluctantly, walked over to the table, giving her attention to the remains before glancing over at Dr. Zack Addy, who was studying the skull. "Can you determine cause of death?" Again, she felt like she were jumping the gun, but Zack might have noticed something that she didn't.

Picking up the skull, Zack turned it around gently. "Nothing yet, but I'm sure something will become more apparent when I can examine the rest of the bones." He glanced after at Dr. Camille Saroyan, the Jeffersonian's pathologist and self-proclaimed "ringmaster" of the Squint Circus. "There is still a great deal of flesh on the bones in some places." He gestured toward the top of the skull and the lower half of the skeleton.

"I'll take a look at it." Cam remarked, moving toward the pelvic region of the remains on down, taking in any markings to the flesh. "Looks like they're some clothes, too, Hodgins."

Hodgins smiled. "Best gift I've ever gotten." Angela raised an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. "Well…" He backtracked quickly. "Not the _best_…"

Booth held up a hand. "Please, don't say another word, I'll shoot you right here." He informed the man frankly.

Deciding not to reply, Hodgins took the hint and left with the scraps of clothing and same dirt scrapings he had collected from the bones. Angela did the same, carrying the metal tray holding the skull at arm's length as she went to her office.

Sighing, Booth leaned against the side of an empty examining table. "This is the part I hate the most," he remarked to no one in particular, "the waiting."

"We could grab a cup of coffee from the cafeteria." Brennan suggested, causing Booth to raise an eyebrow. She had no idea if the time for getting coffee had passed or if there really was an appropriate time to get coffee but it seemed like a good suggestion all the same. "I can't do anything with the bones until Cam has all she needs." She pulled off her gloves and tossed them into the trashcan.

Nodding slowly, Booth stood up. "Okay, one crappy cup of coffee it is." He followed Brennan down the laboratory stairs and in the direction of the cafeteria. "Since when do you want to get coffee with me, Bones?" He raised an eyebrow, subconsciously placing his hand on the small of her back as he steered her toward an open elevator cab. Brennan, for her part, savored the feel of his warm hand against her skin.

"You make it seem like I never spend time with you." Brennan protested as they doors closed behind them. "We go out the diner all the time." She raised an eyebrow.

"Right, well, that's usually when we've got work stuff to discuss or just finished a case." Booth had no idea why he was making such a big deal over things. It wasn't like he minded going upstairs to get a cup of coffee with the alluring Dr. Brennan. Quite the opposite in fact. "But there's nothing to discuss right now."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Brennan squared her jaw. The elevator doors slid open and they were joined by a woman who's arms were loaded with potted plants. "Maybe I just wanted to spend some time with you. Catch up." She mumbled, staring down at her feet.

Unable to keep from grinning, Booth leaned closer to her. "What was that, Bones? Didn't quite catch you there, you were mumbling."

Brennan looked up at him. "I said I want to spend some time with you." She repeated louder and when she saw the smirk on Booth's face she gave him a playful shove.

Booth laughed. "Why, thank you Bones, I knew you'd come around eventually." The woman with the plants glanced over her shoulder at him. "Just can't keep the ladies away." He winked at her and both the woman and Brennan rolled their eyes.

When the doors slid open once more, Booth and Brennan stepped past the woman and her flora and into the cafeteria. It was approaching lunchtime by the room was far from crowded; the fact that most people preferred to drive away from work and fight traffic and poor parking was a testament to the cuisine the cafeteria offered. There was very little left the coffee marker and the bare bones slopped into the Styrofoam cups Booth set up. Brennan wrinkled her nose as she looked down at the liquid.

But when she looked back up to find Booth smirking at her, his eyes sparkling, so alive and so…Booth, she figured the poor coffee was worth it. As hard as she tried, Brennan couldn't shake the images of him lying so still and white on the operating table, couldn't forget the way it had felt to think that she would never see him again, never be able to see that smile or hear him call her "Bones" in what was now clearly a sign of affection and not degradation.

All those regrets she'd had then…perhaps the very reason she was standing here in this cafeteria now beside Booth, who should (scientifically, rationally speaking) be dead right now. This was something she never would have bothered to do before, never would have abandoned a fresh case to have a cup of coffee with Booth; even if she had no real purpose in the lab, she always insisted on being there, hovering around, waiting for something to do. But Brennan had the feeling that those regrets she'd felt in the OR had very little to do with never going to have a cup of coffee with Booth.

So what _did _they entail? Even if she wouldn't say it out loud, Brennan knew full well. She felt the truth behind them with every part of her being as she looked at Booth now and knew that her feelings towards him extended far past partner and friend. Yet, the idea of telling him that, of putting her feelings out there was far from appealing.

"Told you the coffee was crappy." Booth remarked with a smile and a raised eyebrow. "But I know the coffee's just a cover-up." He smirked and she raised an eyebrow. "You just wanted to get me alone." He winked.

Brennan rolled her eyes. "Booth, please. Can't two partners meet for coffee without there being strings attached? You're starting to sound like Angela." And she realized that she was starting to sound like a woman who would do anything and everything to keep from having to admit the way she truly felt about something. There it was, the perfect opportunity to make a little progress, maybe even a tiny little baby step: "You're right Booth, I just like spending time with you" or "we should go get a decent cup of coffee some time." How hard would it have been? No wonder she had so many regrets. Was she really that afraid of Seeley Booth? What was she so afraid of?

"Relax Bones." Booth tossed his mostly full coffee cup into the trashcan. "Just, ya know," he gave her another crooked smile, though there was less truth to this one, "busting your chops." If Brennan wasn't mistaken, she would have said that Booth seemed almost disappointed, as though he had been hoping for something more. She had often doubted his feelings, never considered that he could see her as anyone other than freakishly smart, super-Squint Dr. Brennan with an overly rational mind and no other good qualities. Perhaps that was part of the reason she had kept her own budding feelings at bay, trying to keep them from even herself. Being rejected by Booth would be far worse than anything else she could imagine. Except the scene in the hospital she'd all ready lived through.

Brennan realized that she must have zoned out again when Booth snapped his fingers in front of her face. "You in there Bones?" He raised an eyebrow. She blinked at him, refocusing. "Told you there was too much going on in that," he rapped her forehead gently, "brain of yours."

With a smile that was boarding on a frown (or perhaps it was a frown boarding on a smile) Brennan wrinkled her nose and ducked her head. "I was just thinking about the case." Booth didn't seem surprised by this lie. "Maybe Angela has a face by now."

"You've hardly touched you coffee." Booth pointed out with a smirk. Brennan threw her cup in the trash and they returned to the elevator.

This time they rode alone and in silence, though Brennan stood close enough to Booth so that their arms brushed. There was no harm in being careful and attentive. Not that she expected that Pam would come busting into the Jeffersonian, waving a gun and wanting her own do-over. Regardless, Brennan didn't mind the proximity.

It seemed that Angela was only minutes away from attempting to seek the duo out when they came walking through the door of her office. She got up from her desk chair, carrying two sheets of paper with her. The first, which she handed to Brennan, was a sketch she had done in her own hand: the image was of a girl approximately the age Brennan had suggested with soft eyes and long, curled hair and, as always, a smile. "I went ahead and faxed her picture to the NCMA database while you two were on your coffee date," she smiled and plowed ahead when both Brennan and Booth started to refute her comment, "which was really short, by the way," she looked at Brennan as though she had done her some personal injustice, "and I got a hit almost right away." She handed over the next sheet to Booth. "Her name's Cora Corman, she's twenty years old." As always, Angela's voice carried a heavy sense of sadness to it.

Brennan leaned over Booth's arm, against his shoulder, to look at the page Angela had given him. In the picture was a petite blonde girl with a smile and sparkling eyes, close, as could be expected, to the image Angela had produced. She had a guitar in her lap, her hands wrapped lovingly around the neck. "She was a musician." Brennan looked up at Angela.

Angela shrugged. "Looks that way. But everybody wants to be a musician these days. Could just be for show."

Booth folded the picture and slipped it in his pocket. "Only one way to find out." He looked over at Brennan, who nodded. "Talk to the parents."

Pursing her lips, Brennan muttered, "I hate this part." In response, Booth laid a hand on her shoulder (she felt reassured that he was still there, _really_ there) and locked eyes with her briefly. In his gaze she could see a reflection of her own emotions, mixed with the soft emotions that Booth tried so hard to hide, the weight of this old world. Brennan wanted to help him shoulder some of that weight…she looked down at her feet in case she had started blushing. Emotions didn't always mix well with her.

Gesturing toward the door, Booth remarked, "Let's get this over with," and followed Brennan out of Angela's office.

* * *

"Cora Corman." Booth shook his head, his eyes on the road ahead of him. "What a name."

"Some cultures give their children names in the hopes that their names connect with their destinies and hope they'll live up to them." Brennan remarked. "We do that as well: Hope, Destiny, Star…" She ignored Booth when he remarked that Star was just asking your kid to grow up to be a stripper. "Maybe Cora Corman's parents gave her a stage name in hopes that she'd be able to use it one day."

Booth turned into the neighborhood listed on the missing person's report. "What about naming your kid…I dunno…Champion. That's a lot to live up to." He scanned the numbers on the mailboxes.

Brennan glanced over at him. "Well, your parents named you Seeley…" He met her gaze, clearly not following her point, "it means 'very happy.'" She supplied. "Clearly they hoped you'd live up to it."

Rolling his eyes, Booth muttered, "And thanks to your company Bones, I do, everyday." His words were sarcastic but Brennan didn't miss the affection buried down in them. "There it is." Booth pointed to a townhouse a few buildings down from where he parked the car.

The building was painted a muted shade of what might have once been lime-green, the paint flaking; the one story town-home had been split into two separate properties and there was a pile of mail outside the door of the left one, which matched the address of the missing person's report.

Booth knocked on the door, squinting in an attempt to peer through the windows. There was no response, so he knocked again, louder this time. Brennan waited eagerly at his side, shifting her posture impatiently.

As Booth was knocking once more, loud enough to rattle the window to the left of the door, the other door flew open and a man no more than twenty-three poked his head out. At the same time, a shrill beeping sounded from inside the Corman's unit and the man grimaced, looking like he was hearing nails on a chalkboard. "Thought you might be maintenance." He sounded disappointed.

Booth pulled out his badge and flashed it. "FBI. I'm Agent Booth, this is Dr. Brennan." The man looked from one to the other, nodding with a slightly confused expression on his face. "This the Corman place." He gestured with this chin to the other unit.

"It's Cora's place, if that's what you mean." The man explained. "Is this what this is about. Cora? Did you find her?"

Exchanging a glance with Brennan, Booth cleared his throat. "Mind if we ask you a few questions, Mr…?" The neighbor supplied his name: Adam Matthews and gestured for them to enter his apartment. He looked relieved when the beeping from the other apartment stopped. "You and Miss Corman close?" Booth raised an eyebrow.

Shrugging, Adam shifted nervously. "Sort of. Always talked when we ran into each other…thought she was pretty hot. But we never, like, went out for drinks or anything, if that's what you mean." Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Brennan walked around his apartment, examining the various pieces of artwork he had propped up.

Brennan couldn't shake the nagging feeling that was worrying at her gut, slowly filling her with panic. This man, this situation, it was all like the investigation of the young club singer that had led to Booth…to the events of that night at the Checker Box. Yet, the victim had been a man then…not everything was adding up. She looked over at Adam. "Does the name Pam Nunan mean anything to you?" She questioned, a tremor in her voice.

Both Adam and Booth seemed confused. "Pam…no." Adam shrugged. "I thought this was about Cora." Brennan felt slightly relieved. Adam Matthews had been the first person to mention Pam and her potential involvement in the case.

"You and Cora close enough for you to notice if she went missing?" Booth continued on, ignoring Brennan's question.

"Sure, sure." Adam nodded. "I'm the one who reported her missing, actually." Booth raised an eyebrow. "It was…uh…maybe three weeks ago? Maybe two, I dunno. When I get to working," he gave a half gesture to the artwork around the apartment, "I sort of loose track of time. But her mail was piling up and she didn't send anyone to pick it up or anything and then that damn alarm…" Almost on cue, the alarm in the unit started up again. "Why does anyone need an alarm that goes off every five minutes? Nigh and day?"

Nodding, Booth also ignored his comments about the alarm. He barely noticed the sound. "Cora have any enemies? Anyone come to see her around the time she disappeared?"

Shrugging, Adam shook his head. "Not really. Just her boyfriend but I wouldn't call him an enemy…oh wait. There was this one guy. Uh…can't remember his name but he stopped by one night, a little while before all the mail started to pile up. Cora and her boyfriend just got back from a night out and this guy's waiting for her outside her place. He and her boyfriend get in a fight, someone called the cops…it was really noisy. I couldn't concentrate." Adam shrugged once more. Booth found the trait rather annoying. "Guy didn't come back."

Nodding, Booth pulled out his card. "You give me a call if you remember the guy's name, all right?" He raised an eyebrow and Adam nodded quickly. "Come on, Bones." She was at his side quickly.

When they were back in the car, Booth glanced over at her. "What do you think of that guy?" He questioned.

Brennan tried to remember the previous case, with the male singer and Pam Nunan. Why was it that some parts were so hazy, hardly more than fragments of a dream but she couldn't remember every heart-wrenching detail about the night of Booth's murder? "I'm…not…sure." She shook her head, defeated.

"And who's Pam Nunan?" Booth questioned and Brennan's eyes grew wide at the mention of her name. She found it fascinating that Booth could speak the name of the woman who had so cold-bloodedly killed him. He had no idea of what could have, of what _did_ happen, of the fate he'd escaped, of the second chance he'd gotten. The second chance she'd gotten…the one she wasn't acting upon. The one she was wasting this very second as they sat in the car, talking about Pam Nunan when she could have been confessing that she might possibly just be madly in love with him. Or what she assumed was love, which had once been disguised as loathing. How things changed. If something happened again…she'd still have the same regrets she'd had in that hospital room…and no second chance. Besides, if there was no Pam Nunan, then Booth was in no real danger, nothing more then usual anyway. That gave her a longer timeframe, a loop-hole, a different set of rules to play by…but that idea just didn't sit right with her for some reason.

"No one." Brennan croaked out, instead of spitting out any of the words she knew she should say, that she wanted to say. For someone trained in four different styles of martial arts, she sure lacked a backbone. "Just…no one."

Booth looked at her closely, but didn't say anything more. Brennan was grateful. She didn't think she could talk anymore about Pam Nunan today. Though it was better than the alternative. _Chicken_, she chided herself, looking at the window. _It's just Booth_. But everyone left her eventually…loosing Booth would be ten times harder if he knew how she felt, if she admitted to the feelings. Maybe she was a chicken, but she was an impossibly rational one.

**Another AN: **_Yes, I know the name Cora Corman comes from the cute movie "Music and Lyrics" but I just couldn't resist. The name of the chapter also comes from a song in "Music and Lyrics" so I did some borrowing... _


	4. Breaking Dawn

**AN**: Again thank you! Thank you for all the awesome reviews! It makes me so very happy. I love hearing your feedback, all your favorite lines and your in-put. I hope I don't let you guys down. Keep up the reviews. Sorry for the delay: I'm the not brightest crayon in the box and went to the pool without sunscreen. Needless to say, sitting at my desk was absolute torture but I feel a little better and less stupid now. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter; I meant for it to continue on with the case but got away with myself and it's just a little bit of fluff. Oh well... Anyway, keep up those awesome reviews! Enjoy!

**Breaking Dawn**

It was somewhere after the middle of the night and before morning that Brennan woke with a start, the echoes of her scream bouncing around the walls of her empty apartment. Her breathing was heavy and ragged and she was shaking but at the same time suffocatingly hot and tangled in the comforter on her bed. She sat for a moment, trying to force her breathing to slow down, trying to get some control over her mind once more; she closed her eyes, only to open them again seconds later when images of her nightmare flashed across her lids: Booth, bleeding in her arms…dead on the table in the OR. The only thing worse then the nightmare itself was the fact that it was true, heartbreakingly and painfully true. Or it had been once.

Brennan suddenly felt more disoriented then she had since leaving the 9th Ward in New Orleans, unable to distinguish fact from fiction. Which was reality? The life where Booth had been shot by Pam Nunan in the club, the reality where she had held his cold face between her hands and wept for everything he would miss, everything she had missed because of her substantial lack of backbone? Or were those events just a dream? Was she living in a world where such things had never happened and Booth was oblivious to the images that plagued her mind? It was hard to tell which nightmare had ended and which continued.

In the quiet of her apartment, Brennan swore that her pounding heartache echoed as noisily as the scream that still tingled her throat. Her eyes pricked with tears before she could help herself and she blinked them away quickly. She tried to be rational, but it wasn't helping, it wasn't calming her pounding heart or her ragged breathing or the fear that gripped her like a vice.

Flicking on the lamp, she checked her watch (5:05 AM, but she hadn't slept well that night) and picked up her cell phone. Before she could stop herself, Brennan found her fingers punching the speed dial number that would connect her to Booth. Hopefully.

"Hello…?" Booth's voice was heavy with sleep, groggy and confused.

Brennan didn't realize that she had been holding her breath until she exhaled long and slowly. Instantly she felt herself begin to calm, sagging as though a huge weight had been taken off her shoulders. Booth was all right, he was still alive. Her eyes filled with tears all over again. "Booth, it's me." She figured that was better then just crying on the phone then hanging up.

"Bones? What's wrong? Are you all right?" Instantly he came awake, she could hear it in his voice. He was alert and tense and the idea of her wellbeing prompting such a reaction caused Brennan to feel even better, though she wasn't entirely sure why, and more certain of her own feelings for the man. "Are you okay?" Booth questioned again, his voice taunt with the same panic that she'd felt only moments before.

Instantly Brennan regretted calling him, especially this early in the morning. Her heart had gotten away from her, her panic had caused her to react in a way her mind never would have let her. What was she thinking calling Booth at five in the morning? Waking him up, causing him unnecessary concern? What was she supposed to say now? "Yes, Booth, I'm fine. Everything's fine." She assured him. _Perfectly fine_..._it was only a nightmare_.

There was a beat of silence and Brennan could hear the springs of the mattress squeaking as Booth rolled over, no doubt checking the time. "Bones, it's five in the morning. Are you sure you're all right?" He sounded relieved and tired all over again. "Is it your head again?"

Rolling her eyes, Brennan slipped out of bed, unable to stay among the sweat drenched sheets any longer. "No, it's not my head. I told you I'm fine." She informed him frankly, getting a laundry basket out of the closet. She was awake now…there was no way she'd be able to go back to sleep and risk the nightmares all over again. How many times did she have to relieve those horrible events? They plagued her in whatever life she was in.

A sigh, but Booth still seemed slightly more relieved then irritated. Right now. "Why are you calling me at five in the morning?" He questioned and Brennan could picture him laying back against his pillows, eyes closed, trying to make sense of everything. Maybe he was even shirtless…down girl. She shook her head. "Is Angela okay?" He didn't seem quite as concerned as he had when he thought she was in danger. "Cam…everyone…?"

"Yes." Brennan was touched by his concern for her (his too, even if he'd never admit it) friends. "Everyone's fine." How was she supposed to explain the reason she had called, the fact that she had been so consumed with worry over him that the only thing that would calm her down was hearing his voice, reassuring herself that he was truly all right. It wasn't the type of things that partners were supposed to do with one another but Brennan was slowly coming to terms with the fact that she could no longer get away with calling Booth just her partner in good faith. Well, maybe she could, seeing as he wasn't _actually_ anything more then her partner but she'd be lying to herself.

Clearly Brennan had taken too long in giving Booth the reply he was searching for, so he spoke again. "Bones? You still there? Are you being held hostage? Is this some kind of secret attempt to let me know that you're in danger without letting your kidnapper know?" Now that Booth was steadily growing more awake his sense of "humor" was becoming more pronounced.

"Don't be silly, Booth." Brennan rolled her eyes at the empty air, stripping the sheets off her bed and dumping them into the laundry basket. She felt much better now, more normal with her feet on the ground. Booth was all right, groggy but all right and the images that went on repeat constantly through her mind were becoming more and more like something from another life, her biggest fear realized. She was letting her rational mind take over again and yet…Brennan didn't feel like that was entirely a good thing.

"So are you going to tell me why you decided to wake me up at five in the morning?" The springs of the mattress groaned again and Brennan imaged Booth getting out of bed, yawning and doing a one-handed stretch over his head, awake in spite of his wishes to get a little bit more sleep before starting what was certain to be a taxing day the office. They'd had no breaks in the case yet: Cora Corman's parents were dead, Adam Matthews hadn't remembered anything about the time Cora had gone missing and the Squint Squad had yet to find anything useful. They were going to be doing a lot of digging, she could feel it.

What should she tell him? The truth or make up some sort of believable lie? But what lie would be believable enough to convince Booth? And what did she really have to loose from telling him the truth, or some variation of it? It might not be confessing her absolute crippling fear of losing him or the fact that he made her heart skip several beats when he was around her or that this wasn't the first time she'd dreamt about him (different circumstances the first few times, she hadn't woken up screaming) but it was a start. "I…I had a nightmare." Brennan confessed quietly and she was hyper-aware of Booth listening on the other end of the phone. "I…I can't get back to sleep now." Booth started to say something but she cut him off. "I know, I know, it's totally irrational and I know that I shouldn't be afraid of nightmares and I _shouldn't_ have called to wake you up and I'm sorry…" Brennan figured that it was better to beat him to the punch before he could inform her of all those things himself. Somehow they sounded less like a brush off in her own voice.

"A snake dream again, Bones?" Booth questioned and she could hear the smile in his voice and was surprised that he didn't agree with the things she'd said. It seemed that he didn't mind her calling him with such frivolous things at five o'clock in the morning. Deciding it was easier then having to make up some other nightmare (there was no way she'd be able to tell him the contents of her dream, the images that could easily get her shaking all over again), she confirmed his words. "Those forked-tongues just get to you, don't they." He was making fun of her but in a friendly way, a way Brennan didn't mind so much. But she did shiver slightly, thinking about what he was saying. "The slithering…" Booth chuckled.

Again, Brennan rolled her eyes. "I'm hanging up now." That was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment, even if he did fill her head with thoughts of snakes.

Quickly, Booth stopped her. "Kidding, Bones, kidding." She put the phone back to her ear but said nothing. "So…since we're both up…what do you say I take you out for a real cup of coffee?"

There was a moment of silence and Booth's hopes for an acceptance dropped significantly; knowing Brennan, she'd somehow come up with a reason to be at the Jeffersonian at five thirty in the morning. "Okay." She said instead. "Coffee sounds good."

"Great." The smile was back in his voice. "Meet you at the diner? Say…five forty five?" Booth had developed a sixth sense at guessing the amount of time Brennan needed to move from one stage to the other, even of those stages happened to be from a sleep-altered appearance to one that was suitable for the public. Brennan had to hand it to him; in that area, he was quite talented. Though, of course, he was probably talented in other areas…down girl. Maybe a cold shower was in order.

After cementing their plans and disconnecting, Brennan went into the bathroom, making sure the shower was the acceptable temperature to banish all unprofessional thoughts from her mind.

* * *

As Brennan approached the diner dawn was beginning to break across the horizon, the first hints of morning spreading across the city. There was a thick cloud cover across the sky but the sun could still be seen through the darkness, trying to make itself noticeable amongst all the turmoil. Brennan couldn't help but wonder if her interpretation of the overcast day had anything to her do with her own mental state.

Booth was all ready seated at one of the tables, sitting a cup of coffee, flipping through the front page of the morning's paper, no doubt hot off the presses. The diner was hardly crowded this early in the morning; one waitress paced from one end of the building to the other, laughing with the cook behind the grill, while two men in business suits downed coffee and eggs at the counter and a group of suggestively dressed girls in a corner booth looked like they hadn't gone home for the night yet.

When he noticed Brennan, Booth quickly set aside the paper and smiled, his face brightening like the sky outside. Brennan had no idea when she had suddenly become so poetic…or so in tune with Booth's emotions. She pushed both questions from her mind as she sat down in front of him. "Thanks for…meeting me." She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear nervously, as though she'd never in her life sat at this table with Seeley Booth. The flutter in her stomach at seeing as his smile was very unusual indeed.

Waving a dismissive hand, Booth leaned back against his seat. "C'mon Bones, what are partners for?" He smiled at her and there was that fluttering feeling all over again.

And Brennan realized that if she had been waiting for the perfect moment to banish those regrets, to tell Booth how she felt and take the chance that he might feel the same way, this was it. But somehow, the words still froze in her throat, even if the rest of her was thawed by his smile and his very presence. She had never been good with hypothetical situations, mostly because they were hypothetical. It was easy to image herself telling Booth that she loved him, that she couldn't imagine life without him and she would know because she had been there but in those situations things went exactly they way she wanted: she spoke perfectly, articulately and like some Julia Roberts heroine (she had to make sure to hit Booth with that pop culture reference next chance she got) and Booth looked into her eyes and made things so much more perfect by telling her that he felt the exact same way and they would share a kiss that would make the music swell inside of her like it was playing over the end credits.

But this was real life. There were no end credits or witty dialogue. And no way to guarantee how Booth would react to the words she'd probably stumble over anyway. There was so much more to consider, so many variables in an equation she couldn't afford to mess up. They were parents, they were supposed to be professional. How professional could they be if she confessed it all and he turned her down as kindly as he could. She had the feeling that any stake-outs they had would be far from tension free. And they couldn't just sit at the diner and just be…

But the image of Booth in the OR, her panic at never letting him know how she felt…

Brennan shook her head to dislodge those thoughts. She'd always been particularly good at separating the things she didn't want to think about from things that she should be thinking.

"You've been doing that a lot." Booth pointed out and Brennan looked at him in surprise. "Shaking your head. Like you're trying to get rid of something you don't want to think about." God he knew her so well. "I keep expecting to see thoughts falling out of your ears." He smiled at his own foolish comment.

Unable to keep from smiling herself, Brennan just shrugged. "Just rearranging." She went along with his joke.

The waitress slid up to their table and took their order, shouting it out to the cook as she headed towards the business-suits at the counter. "You didn't get pie." Brennan pointed out and Booth raised an eyebrow. "You always have pie."

"What is this fixation with what I eat?" Booth rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "And it's six in the morning, Bones, no one eats pie at six in the morning."

With a conspiratorial smile (the type Booth noticed she got whenever she was about to share something she thought was particularly juicy but most other people wouldn't bat an eyelash at), Brennan leaned forward slightly. "I love to eat cold pizza for breakfast." There was that smile again, it was all Booth could do to keep from laughing and breaking into a smile himself. He worried that if he reacted in such a way, Brennan would decide not to inform him of these oh-so-important-and-secret things and that was hardly something he wanted. He found her even more endearingly beautiful because of them. "Sometimes, I order a pizza just to eat it for breakfast."

Patting her hand, Booth nodded. "That's good, Bones. Brain food." He couldn't keep from smiling now. "We'll have to go out for cold pizza sometime."

"I don't think there's a place where you can get cold pizza." Brennan pointed out, her tone serious and slightly disappointed.

Shaking his head, Booth finished his coffee. "Just think, Bones, if you weren't, ya know, doing your bones thing, you could open up the first cold pizza joint."

_But then I wouldn't get to see you everyday_. Brennan was proud she still have some rational behavior left in her; she knew (to a fault it seemed) when not to say something. "It'd be a hit." She pointed the rim of her half-full coffee cup at him. "You could be the chef."

"I'd be a whiz at sticking those pies in the fridge." Booth was starting to get the feeling that he should always start his day with the six in the morning Brennan. There was just something about getting her before she'd had the chance to step into the Jeffersonian and become forensic anthropologist Dr. Brennan. "Hodgins could be the exterminator," Brennan gave him a look, "just in case your place had bugs. Which it wouldn't." He amended.

Nodding, Brennan set down her coffee cup. "And Angela could be a waitress. On roller skates." She was sure that her best friend would be willing to try anything once. Especially if roller skates were involved.

Booth raised an eyebrow. "And what will you do?"

"What every good boss does, of course." Brennan matched his expression. "Sit back and give orders."

They laughed and painted the picture of their very own diner (Booth had wanted to call it "No Bones About It" but Brennan informed him frankly that it sounded far too much like a rib restaurant, which they decided would be their next venture) until the waitress set down their plates.

As she surreptitiously studied Booth across the table, Brennan felt herself longing to stay at the diner forever, simply talking and laughing about utter nonsense with Booth. She didn't want there to be any other type of outside world, no place where Booth was in danger, where those horrible memories existed. There was something relaxing, refreshing in their mindless chatter, in knowing that Booth didn't seem to mind the early wakeup call or her weird behavior.

But, unfortunately, there was a girl laying in pieces on a lab table and murderer to find and others to prevent and as they left the diner, dawn was breaking over the clouds.

**PS...** Told you it was all fluffy. I promise I get back to the heart of things next! Also, I know that probably no one is really wondering but I gotta give credit where credit is due, the title for this chapter comes from the title of the fourth book in the amazing "Twilight Saga" series by Stephenie Meyer. So I admit it, I'm totally into those books...anyway, there you have it.


	5. Baby's Getting Next to Nowhere

**AN**: I know I start every chapter the same but: thank you so much for all the reviews! I'm so glad that so many people like this story. I hope I don't disappoint and continue to entertain. I'm not a big fan of this chapter, I think it's a little bumpy but we all have our rough spots now and then. And I'm glad that I'm not alone in my love for cold pizza; nothing is better then cold pizza. I think we'd have a hit if we opened a restaurant. Anyway, thanks again for all the reviews, I love reading comments from the same people every chapter and getting all those new readers! Keep them up and I hope you enjoy!

**Baby's Getting Next to Nowhere With Her Back Against the Wall **

When Booth and Brennan arrived together, in the midst of a conversation that looked like it had been going on long before a chance meeting in the parking garage, only Angela noticed. That was mostly because Angela noticed everything. She might have the tendency to be a gossip hound or to go sniffing around where Brennan preferred she wouldn't and making Brennan's nonexistent love life her business but she was also fine-tuned to the emotions that her coworkers tried to keep hidden, veiled behind scientific jargon and long-nights at the Jeffersonian. Hodgins hadn't been far off in calling her the heart of the lab, for she monitored the very pulse of the building and often felt like she was more in tune with what was going on then even Cam claimed to be.

So when she saw Brennan and Booth arriving together, laughing and brushing shoulders, Angela smirked to herself, hiding her expression behind her mania folder in order to escape the notice of her coworkers. As much as she prodded and pushed her best friend in the right direction, she knew when Brennan was making progress all on her own and when her meddling would only be detrimental.

Clearing her throat, Brennan swiped her clearance card and stepped into the lab with Booth following behind. They both seemed to have made a transition into a more professional mode though Angela didn't miss the way that Booth's eyes remained on Brennan as she walked over to the examining table where the remains of Cora Corman lay spread and fleshless.

"Zack," Brennan started, pulling her hair back into a ponytail, "what do we have?" Booth came up to stand behind her and her eyes flickered to him briefly before returning to the remains. Angela watched with interest, her eyes peeking over the top of her file.

"The body shows no sign of trauma, no gunshot wounds or stab marks." Zack summarized, pointing with a gloved hand from one bone to the other. "There are also no signs of blunt force trauma on the skull." He looked up at Brennan. "I'm continuing to examine each bone closely."

Brennan nodded, brow knitting in confusion; Zack was thorough, one of the best as examining the bones for traces of what led the victims to their current resting place. For him to miss the cause of death, it must be something unusual indeed. She thought back to the case that had led to Booth's death and the splicing of her first life (Brennan thought it strange that she still couldn't think of those events in terms of nothing more then a nightmare. There was nothing else to suggest that they had actually happened and certainly nothing to scientifically point to their occurrence yet the terminology just wouldn't stick and she couldn't help but wonder if she were starting to listen to her gut), trying to remember the murder weapon that had been used on their "first victim." Her mind was strangely blank, fuzzy around the edges and all she could remember what that, in that case, her first impression had been wrong.

Raising an eyebrow, Booth looked at Zack. "So you're saying that nothing killed her." Zack opened his mouth to dispute the statement but Booth was already turning towards Brennan. "That's not possible right. Like, something had to kill her." Brennan looked at him, trying to figure out of he really wanted an answer to such a bizarre question. Of course something had to have killed Cora Corman; she didn't just go missing then turn up in pieces in a marshy landfill all on her own. Even Booth had to know such things. "Poison?" Clearly Booth was attempting to one-up the heir to Brennan's throne.

The chirp of authorized clearance signaled Cam's arrival. "Tox screens came back negative for any poisons." She had caught the tail-end of their conversation and gave Booth a shrug when he shot her a look. "Though there was some THC in her system." She handed her report over to Brennan.

Brow knitting, Brennan looked it over briefly, much to Cam's chagrin; it was no secret that Brennan didn't hold much interest for the pathological aspect of the investigative process but the director had long since gotten used to swallowing her protests. "THC…" She pursed her lips.

"Marijuana." Booth supplied eagerly, no doubt attempting to recover from his poison mishap.

Again, Brennan's brow knitted when she looked over at him. "I know what THC is." She informed him frankly. Booth held up is hands in surrender. "I think you ate too much a breakfast." A hint of a smile turned up the corners of her lips.

"You two had breakfast together?" Angela spoke suddenly, causing everyone to look in her direction. She had been quietly watching the exchange in the corner and had slipped out of everyone's memory. She raised an eyebrow. "Like together, together? In a restaurant?" She smiled and winked at Brennan, as though communicating some private congratulations that Brennan didn't seem to think was due.

Looking away from Angela, Brennan protested, "What's so wrong with that?" She looked at Cam and Zack. Cam smirked, shrugged and pretending to be very busy studying the clavicle. "It was just breakfast." She looked over at Booth. "We eat together all the time." Back to Angela, who was still smiling. "What?"

Angela mimicked Booth's posture of surrender. "Nothing, sweetie, just asking a question." Brennan looked doubtful. "We never have breakfast…"

Deciding to step in and save his partner's dignity, Booth cleared his throat. "Look, can we just get back to figuring out what killed her?" He pointed to the skeleton. "Shouldn't you have figured that out all ready?" He looked at Zack and raised an eyebrow, causing the young doctor to sputter and pick up a bone, examining it closely. Angela raised an eyebrow when he glanced in her direction, no doubt not appeased by Booth's chivalric attempt to change the conversation. "Oh, look," Booth's gaze flicked toward the stairs leading up to the platform. "Here comes Hodgins. Maybe we could talk about your love life for a while."

Brennan's brow knitted. "We don't have a love life…" She muttered, bothered by Booth's comparison.

But her words went unnoticed. "Or, we could get back to work." Cam suggested as Hodgins joined them. "Save the gossip for the water cooler, people. I just want to know who killed Cora Corman and how she did it."

Hodgins handed over a sheet of paper. "I analyzed her clothes for particulates and compared them to the soil where the body was found. Most matches up but there are traces of fernaidia alatamaha, which doesn't occur naturally especially in," he looked at Booth, "'dumps.'" The FBI agent rolled his eyes and Brennan gave him a sympathetic smile. "It's manufactured, you know, to make plants grow to unnatural sizes." Hodgins shrugged. "I'm checking with all of the companies in the area that manufacture and sell the stuff. Unfortunately, it's pretty common."

Clapping his hands together, Booth sighed. "So what do we know? Not how she died, no where she was killed. Just that she wasn't killed in the…dump."

"Which is a start." Booth looked at Brennan doubtfully. "Right? It means that she probably didn't know her killer because she wouldn't have gone with a random guy to the middle of the woods…" With every word, she felt less confident, until she stopped all together.

Pursing his lips, Booth put a hand on her shoulder. "Just leave the theories to me, Bones. We'll leave the science stuff to you, okay?" He steered her toward the stairs. "Let's go see if Sweets has a profile for us." They started down the stairs. "Maybe you can ask him about those snake dreams too." He tickled the back of her neck.

"Booth!" Brennan turned around and slapped his hand away. "Don't mention that to Sweets, I don't want to spend another hour listening to him analyze what he thinks is in my head."

Raising an eyebrow, Booth questioned, "Why not? I'm tired of him doing it to me and you just sitting back…not saying anything…like you're enjoying it."

Brennan shrugged. "I just think it's…entertaining." Booth shot her a look. "What? It's not like I believe any of it."

Rolling his eyes, Booth shook his head. "It's entertaining when it's not you. I see how it is, Bones." He raised an eyebrow. "I'll just casually mention your nightmares and see what he has to say." He grinned victoriously, like a child willing to change his position on a subject if given the right encouragement.

Brennan couldn't help but wonder what Sweets would say if he knew the truth about the nightmare that had woken her that morning. He'd probably listen to her explanation about the club and Pam Nunan and the utter fear that had seized her when Booth had been shot and then patiently inform her that it probably had something to with her inability to express how deep her feelings for Booth truly ran then have her slapped into a straight jacket. Sweets might be used to his everyday patients blabbing on about second chances and rewinds but if she started, he's probably freak out and have her committed. In truth, Brennan wasn't entirely sure that she didn't belong in a straight jacket.

By this time, they had reached Booth's car, their voices echoing throughout the parking deck. Noting that Brennan had seemingly slipped out of the conversation and into her own private world once again, Booth let the snake topic drop, finding himself watching her with concern. This seemed to be a recent development, something she had taken to doing since she'd fallen off the chair in her office; he wondered if he should force her to go see a doctor. Knowing Brennan, she could have some sort of horrific flesh-eating virus that was causing her limbs to fall off and still refuse to see a doctor. It might just be for his piece of mind but Booth was wondering if maybe that wasn't the right path to take. She'd probably thank him for it later…

"Stop staring at me." Brennan's voice interrupted Booth's train of thought and he looked guiltily away, focusing on the turns of the parking garage.

Clearing his throat, Booth shrugged. "Can you blame me, Bones?" _You're a beautiful woman, a very beautiful woman. _"It's like you keep going into this other world."

Oddly appropriate, considering where her thoughts were taking her, back to another life, or just another nightmare? "You have no idea."

* * *

Long before they reached the FBI building, Booth and Brennan found themselves facing a delay even they couldn't get out of. The unlikely partners had gotten stuck in construction caused traffic and had been sitting behind the same Explorer for the past forty-five minutes and had all ready explored all options for car-related, time-passing games (including but far from limited to making words out of the license plates around them, alphabetically naming their surroundings and trying to name all the presidents sequentially, something Brennan discovered she had very little talent for, which caused Booth to gloat endlessly until Brennan refused to play) and were now sitting in silence, which Booth only found made the situation even more unable. At least Brennan didn't look like she'd gone off into her private world, her eyes hollow and distant, though Booth didn't know if he should really be grateful for that; it just meant she was choosing not to talk to him.

"Can't you turn the siren on?" Brennan questioned suddenly just when Booth was beginning to think she'd fallen asleep. She reached for the siren but he pushed her hand away.

Booth raised an eyebrow. "Where would you like me to go Bones?" He gestured out the windshield, though Brennan didn't need to follow his hand to see that they were surrounded on all sides by cars. It was absolutely gridlock; the siren wouldn't have done anything but annoy the people around them.

Again, Brennan lapsed into silence. Booth cleared his throat, looked out the window, trying to find something of interest other then the way her hair framed her face or how it seemed like she was wearing a different shade of lipstick that morning, one that called unnecessary attention to her lips. "I won't tease you about the presidents anymore." Booth suggested, seeing as silence wasn't doing anything to help distract his un-partner like thoughts. "If you want to play."

Brennan looked at him, doubtful. "Why don't we name all the bones in the human skeleton instead?" She questioned, raising an eyebrow. Booth frowned at her, his brow furrowing (it really was an attractive look) and Brennan couldn't help but smile. "Didn't think so."

Leaning back in her seat, Brennan glanced out the window into the car next to her; it felt sort of voyeuristic, peering in on someone else like that but she was running out of entertainment options. She and Booth could have skipped to the FBI building faster then they were moving now.

The passengers in the car beside her didn't seem quite as bothered by the traffic as their fellow commuters. A man no older then Zack was driving but his attention was on the woman sitting beside him; they were both smiling, laughing at their private conversation and holding hands across the center console. The woman leaned over, kissing her companion, who simply smiled at her, kissing her again and brushing her hair away from her face.

Brennan looked away then, felling intrusive. Of course, this forced her to look right at Booth, who was whistling quietly to himself and tapping out of rhythm on the steering wheel. She still felt it in her heart, when she looked at him, the surprise at seeing him sitting beside her, alive and well, not burdened by the images and aftermath of seeing him lying dead on that OR table. Every time she thought about how cold his skin had felt behind her hands, she had the urge to reach out and touch him, just to be sure this wasn't a dream. But she was all ready acting far too strange to be able to explain that action away. She wasn't used to her every move, every thought not being rational and calculated.

She thought again about the "events" they had led to her ability to have another chance, a chance to erase all her regrets. Thus far, she hadn't done a very good job. Brennan couldn't shake the feeling that eventually she was going to loose her chance all together, that she was going to wake up and find herself back in reality, to find that midnight had come and all the magic was gone. And she'd be no better off then she'd been before. Perhaps even worse.

Clearing her throat, Brennan pursed her lips. Her mouth suddenly felt dry. No time like the present, right? Might as well take the plunge. "Booth?" He looked at her in interest. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you-"

But her words were silence by the shrill ringing of Booth's phone, which he had set on the dashboard when it hadn't looked like they were going anywhere any time soon. Instantly, Brennan fell silent, leaning back against her seat. She didn't know whether she should feel grateful for the interruption, perhaps it was a sign…but she just felt annoyed and put out. Disappointed. It wasn't like she was never going to get another chance to tell Booth how she felt, but now she couldn't help but feel like she'd just be making a mistake. She tried to figure out when she'd become such a superstitious, unscientific woman.

"Booth." The agent looked over at his partner and mouthed out the name 'Adam Matthews,' Cora Corman's neighbor. He nodded, even though Adam couldn't seem him, a quality that Brennan always found endearing and annoyingly useless. "Right, okay…Grayson Smith," another nod, "got it. I'll look him up. Thanks." Booth hung up the phone and tossed it back onto the dashboard. "Adam Matthews." Brennan nodded, raising an eyebrow to urge him to continue. "Remembered the name of the guy that used to hang around Cora's place, the one that was stalking her."

"Showing up once is hardly considered stalking." Brennan pointed out.

Booth shrugged. "Not the way this guy puts it; says he remembers the guy…Grayson Smith, coming by on several occasions, with roses and jewelry. Wouldn't leave when Cora asked him to." He raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a stalker to me."

Brennan pursed her lips. "Funny how her neighbor just remembers all this stuff out of nowhere."

Rolling his eyes, Booth shook his head. "You leave the people reading to me, Bones, okay?" He shrugged. "The third degree can be kind of intimidating. Takes longer to jog the memory."

"So we're going to find this Grayson Smith?" Brennan's interest was peaked and she smiled.

"You read my mind." Booth switched on the siren, getting a look from Brennan. "Official FBI business now, Bones." She rolled her eyes, looking like she had a few choice words for him but kept them to herself. Booth managed to wedge his car in between two of the cars off to their left, hopping the median like many of the other drivers wished they could do.

They had gone several miles when Booth glanced over at Brennan. "What was it you were saying, Bones?" He questioned. "You were going to ask me something." He almost seemed too eager for her answer, like there were a few conversation topics he was hoping for.

Brennan tried not to read too much into them. "Nothing. I forgot."

Booth almost looked disappointed, but she tried not to read too much into that either.

* * *

Grayson Smith was twenty-one, slightly overweight (though nothing a change in diet and exercise schedule couldn't fix), overly chatty and handsome in a homely sort of way. Booth and Brennan had watched him from behind the interrogation window for several minutes before joining him in the dull and lifeless space. He perked up as soon as he heard the door open. He looked at Booth in passing but his eyes settled on Brennan and he offered her a tentative smile that she returned briefly, without thought, as she and Booth went to sit at the opposite side of the table.

"You said you wanted to talk about Cora." Grayson started without preamble. "That's what the agent said, when she showed me in here." His eyes lit up at the mention of her name and his gaze settled on Brennan. "I thought maybe you were talent agents; you know how much Cora loves to sing. But you're FBI…right? What could the FBI want with Cora?"

As usual, Brennan was quick to interject. "Actually I'm a forensic anthropologist." She informed him frankly and Booth couldn't keep from rolling his eyes. Though he was used to Brennan's attempts to distinguish herself from nearly everyone she met by now.

Grayson smiled shyly again. "You're smart then." He looked at Brennan. "Are you a doctor?"

Before Brennan could reply, Booth cleared his throat. "That's right, we're here to talk about Cora." Grayson looked over at him reluctantly. "We have reason to believe that you know a lot about Cora."

Nodding, Grayson agreed. "That's right. Cora and I were very serious. She was…my entire world." His smile was even wider then the one he'd used when watching Brennan. "We were getting married, you know."

Brennan and Booth exchanged a surprised, yet slightly doubtful expression, causing Grayson to frown. "Engaged?" Booth looked back at their witness. "Last I heard…Cora had a boyfriend. Who wasn't you." He leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow.

Pursing his lips, Grayson shook his head. "No, _no_." He said vehemently. Brennan glanced over at her partner but his attention was still on the man across from them. "That guy…that _jerk_…he wasn't good enough for Cora." He looked at Booth entreatingly. "She knew I would treat her right. I was her number one fan! She was just trying to find a way to break it off easy with this guy, let him down gentle, you know?" Booth shrugged but Grayson didn't need the encouragement to continue. "That was just the type of person Cora was. Real gentle, real sweet. Cared about everyone." He smiled slightly.

Clearing his throat, Booth leaned forward slightly, a conspiratorial sort of posture, as though they were two friends sharing a really good secret. "Did…uh…Cora _know_ you two were engaged?" He raised an eyebrow.

Grayson looked confused, his brow knitting. "Absolutely. I gave her a ring, a beautiful ring." Booth gave Brennan a sidelong glance and she shook her head once; no ring had been found with Cora's remains. "And she gave me this." Grayson reached beneath his shirt and pulled out a medallion on a leather chain. It was one of those gifts that had the ability to look nice and expensive, but upon further inspection might turn out to come from a flea market junk table or one of those cheap jewelry kiosks that dotted every shopping mall. "Cora was my everything, my whole world." He smiled, looking lost in his own memories. "And the way she sang…like an angel."

Once more, Booth cleared his throat, attempting to get the conversation back on track. "Mr. Smith, we have a witness, Cora's neighbor," Grayson frowned, "who claims that Cora wasn't entirely receptive of your attentions. He said you used to stand outside her house at night."

"I just wanted to be close to her." Grayson looked over at Brennan. "You understand, don't you? You must know what it's like to want to be near the person you care about all the time?" Flushing, Brennan looked down at the table, away from Booth's general direction. "Cora was the only person who saw me for who I really was…saw past my…" He gestured in a self-deprecating way toward himself. "Body." He, too, looked down at the table.

Brennan raised an eyebrow. "Mr. Smith, you're far from fat. Your body fat index can hardly be a little more then over its limits and if you only dedicated yourself to a strict workout and a strict diet, it would be easy for you to loose that extra weight." She informed him frankly.

Grayson looked up at her. "Thank you, Dr." He smiled. "You're a lot like Cora." Brennan pursed her lips and said nothing more. Grayson glanced back over at Booth. "You see the type of person Cora was, Agent. Whatever you think she's done, I can assure you, she hasn't done it. Not my Cora."

Pursing his lips, Booth nodded slowly. "It's not something Cora's _done_, Mr. Smith." Grayson looked confused. "Mr. Smith…I know this might be hard for you but…Cora's dead." Grayson's face fell and he slumped back in his chair, looking stunned. "Do you have any idea…we're going to need to know where you were the night Cora was killed."

Eyes flashing, Grayson's entire expression changed. "You think _I _did something to her? That I hurt her? I would _never_, _never_ hurt Cora!" Once again his emotion surprised both Brennan and Booth. Almost as soon as it had come, Grayson's anger vanished and his shocked expression returned. "I can't believe she's dead. I loved her…"

Getting to his feet, Booth motioned for Brennan to do the same. "We're going to have some more questions for you in a minute, Mr. Smith." They started toward the door. "If you could please, just…sit tight."

As she passed him, Brennan glanced down at Grayson, pitying him for the pained expression on his face. He might be an admirer from afar, a wishful thinker, a stalker even, but she knew grief when she saw it and his face was a picture of it. "Mr. Smith," he looked over at her, "I'm sorry for your loose." She put her hand briefly on his shoulder.

Instantly, Grayson's expression changed once more. "Thank you, Dr." He gave her a smile. "You're very beautiful." He laid his hand over hers.

Quickly, Brennan pulled away, taking a step back. She offered him a brief smile before following Booth out of the office, feeling relief, though she wasn't sure why, when he shut the door behind her.

**PS...**I know I have the tendency to talk about movies/books at the end of these chapters (which, by the way, speaking of the _Twilight _books I talked about last chapter, you should read them CSI!) but has anyone seen the _Sex and the City_ movie? I saw it yesterday and it was amazing! Maybe I'm just a girl but...so good! Anyway...hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	6. What Ghosts There Do Remain

**AN**: Can you guys anticipate what I'm about to say next? Probably...thanks so much for all the reviews! Ah! I love it! So please, keep them up because you guys are AMAZING! Anyway...aside from all the awesome reviews, let me just say if I can inspire you guys to start reading the _Twilight _book series, then I guess I did something with my life :) And I'm glad I'm not the only _Sex and the City Movie_ fan out there. KristieM: Yes, I agree with you; Charlotte was my absolute favorite. "I curse they day you were born"...genius. Anyway, on with the story. I hope you guys enjoy this (lil' bit longer) chapter. Enjoy!

**What Ghosts There Do Remain**

Neither Booth nor Brennan exchanged so much as a word as they walked down the carpeted hallway of the FBI building, heading to the private room where they had a view of the integration room through a one-way mirror. Booth placed his hand on the small of Brennan's back as he walked a step behind her and it relieved some of the tension she felt in her shoulders after leaving the room and Grayson Smith behind. She felt like it was wholly possible to melt in Booth's hands in that moment and she wondered when she had become that type of woman; the type of woman who was putty to another person, to a man. Even if that man was Booth, it was still a good way to get hurt. Much like she all ready had been. But she didn't shrug his hand away.

When they entered the room, they found it all ready occupied by psychologist Lance Sweets, the boyish looking doctor who had made a new pastime of analyzing every sentence that ever left the mouths of the partners. He smiled when they entered, no doubt hopeful for some interesting interaction but his smile was quickly replaced by a more businesslike expression and one of tentative concern. "You shouldn't have touched him, Dr. Brennan." Sweets advised without preamble.

Brow knitting, Brennan looked at him. "Why not?" Though she was starting to get the same feeling. She looked over at Booth. "I didn't hurt him." Her partner shrugged.

Sweets gestured toward the room, where Grayson sat, his eyes fixed on the door, unaware that he was being watched. "This guy is clearly unbalanced. I think Agent Booth was right, he was definitely stalking your victim." Booth and Brennan went to stand beside him, staring into the room as well. "I mean all the classic signs are there: giving her gifts to obligate her into interaction, going to all of her shows, supporting her. The fact that's absolutely convinced that she felt the same way, that they were going to be engaged even…" Sweets shrugged. "It shows that he's very unbalanced and has almost no hold on reality."

Brennan looked over at him. "And that's why I shouldn't have touched him…" She raised an eyebrow.

"Now that his other 'girlfriend' is dead, he needs someone else to fixate on, to give his attention to." Sweets explained. "And that person happens to be you, Dr. Brennan." She looked surprised. "You showed him a kindness he doesn't think he should get so when someone does give it to them he makes that person his next…target." He couldn't find a better word. "Cora probably gave him a compliment or something and…bam."

Booth pursed his lips, looking at the man in the room. "Do you think he could have killed her?"

"Absolutely." Booth and Brennan looked over at Sweets. "I believe that his hold on reality is so small that he could have killed Cora when he realized that maybe things weren't exactly like he wanted. In his mind, he might have killed her so that she'd always be his or because she wasn't being faithful or something." He shrugged. "I believe he's your killer, Agent Booth."

For a moment, Booth stood in silence, staring at Grayson. He thought about all that Sweets had said, about his tenuous hold on reality, the fact that he might have killed Cora Corman because she refused to give him what he wanted and he didn't want anyone else to have her in the way he imagined that he did. And what Sweets had said about his attachment to Brennan. The image of her ending up like Cora was far from a pleasant one. He shook it off with a shudder, turning to look at the doctors standing beside him. "I'll go see if he has an alibi, any ideas on what happened to Cora." He started toward the door and Brennan took a step after him. "Stay here with Sweets, Bones." He held up a hand.

Brow knitting, Brennan looked both annoyed and hurt. "Why? Because of what he said?" She gestured towards Sweets without looking in his direction.

"You might distract him, Bones." Booth didn't want to argue with her about the irrationality of his worry. "Just give me ten minutes." He raised an eyebrow and Brennan sighed but he could tell she had agreed.

When Booth entered the interrogation room, Grayson's face lit up in anticipation, only to fall when he realized the agent was alone. "Where is she?" He questioned, glancing around the room as though thinking Brennan would magically appear.

Booth ignored his question, taking a seat across from him. "Do you know who might have wanted to hurt Cora?" Grayson's eyes had fixed on the door once more and Booth rapped the table. "Mr. Smith, Dr. Brennan isn't coming." Grayson looked at him in surprise. "So answer my questions before I arrest you for obstruction of justice."

"No." Booth raised an eyebrow. "I mean, no, I don't know anyone who'd want to hurt Cora. She was an angel." Grayson smiled briefly. "Well…her 'boyfriend,'" Grayson rolled his eyes in disgust, "he might have hurt her when she told him that we were getting married." Booth raised an eyebrow. "His name was Mike Sanders, he worked at the club Cora always sang at. The Checker Box."

Cataloging everything he said to memory, Booth nodded. "And, where have you been for the past few weeks? Wondering where Cora went off to?" He leaned back in his chair, raising an eyebrow.

"I've been in Ohio. I went there for a seminar for work, I work for an insurance company. I stayed a few extra days to spend time with my sister. She just had a baby." Grayson smiled, only to frown seconds later. "When I came back, Cora was missing. I haven't stopping worrying since."

Booth pulled a notepad out of his jacket pocket. "I'm going to need your sister's name. The name of your company." Grayson quickly wrote down the information he requested and slid the pad back. "Thanks for your help, Mr. Smith." He got to his feet. "We'll keep in touch if we have any more questions and don't hesitate to call us if you remember anything." His hand was on the door handle before Grayson spoke again.

"Is Dr. Brennan coming in again?" Grayson asked hopefully.

Pursing his lips, Booth's eyes flicked unconsciously toward the mirror, knowing that Brennan's eyes were on him even if he couldn't see her. He looked back at Grayson, debating an answer before simply leaving the room in silence.

* * *

When Brennan and Sweets joined Booth in his office, he was finishing up a call to Elizabeth Shelton, Grayson's very concerned older sister. He hung up the phone with the anthropologist and psychologist entered. "Well, Grayson's alibi checks out. He was with his sister in Ohio about the time Cora was killed." Booth looked over at Sweets. "Still think he's the killer?" He smirked.

Wrinkling his nose, Sweets sighed. "Not if he has an alibi…" He seemed disappointed. Booth got to his feet and motioned for Brennan to follow him out the door. "Where are you going?" Sweets was quick to follow after them.

"To the Checker Box." Booth glanced over at the young doctor. "To see if anyone there remembers Cora. And maybe her boyfriend still works there." Brennan nodded her agreement.

"Wait." They both turned to look at Sweets. "Just be careful around Grayson, all right?" Booth looked at him doubtfully. "He might not be the killer, but I still say he's dangerous."

Booth rolled his eyes. "Right, real dangerous. All those gifts and standing outside her house at night." He looked and looked at Brennan for her support.

She was about to smile when she remembered Sweet's warning about Pam Nunan and the way they had laughed it off, thinking nothing more about her. And how she had put a bullet in Booth that had almost taken him away from her forever…Brennan felt chilled. "Maybe he's right." Booth looked at her in surprise. "You can never be too careful." Brennan shrugged. "Maybe you should stay away from him." Sweets seemed pleased that Brennan had taken his side.

Once more, Booth rolled his eyes, starting down the hallway once more. "Stay away from him. Right. Because I'm not an FBI agent with a gun or anything." He shook his head. "I think I can handle some fat insurance salesman."

"_Booth_!"

"Sorry." Booth shrugged as they stepped into the elevator. "I'm just saying, I think I can handle him, all right?" Brennan said anything. "You just…worry about yourself, Bones, all right."

Not so easy to do with memories like hers.

* * *

Brennan was beginning to think she was experiencing the worst and most obnoxious case of _déjà vu _ever possible. She wished things would either be one way or the other; it was bad enough that she had to continuously suffer through the memories of Pam shooting Booth and facing her partner, dead, in the OR but to have this life so closely mirror the one she'd managing to escape was just too much. The similarities between the case they'd investigated before and the one they were knee-deep in now weren't lost on her but what did happen to be lost on her was anything that might be useful to helping them solve Cora Corman's murder and catching her killer. If her memories had to be selective, she wished she could trade the ones of Booth's death for clues on Cora Corman's murder.

And because of the nagging feelings she had been getting since yesterday (it was like thinking you might have left the stove on at your apartment, remembering something you couldn't quite put your finger on), it was no surprise to Brennan that she felt a sense of familiarity when they pulled up in front of the Checker Box club.

It was barely past noon and there were few cars in the parking lot, making it obvious that the club was busiest after dark. Brennan eyed the building carefully as she followed Booth up the walk to the door. "Hey, Bones," he caught her attention, gesturing off to her right, "check it out." A bed of freshly planted flowers ringed the building all the way to the back, where it disappeared around the corner. Booth raised an eyebrow when Brennan looked back at him. "Wasn't Hodgins saying something about dirt?"

"We'll take a sample back to the Jeffersonian with us." Brennan felt like only half her mind was on the present, the other half lost to the past and other memories.

There was no answer no matter how loud or how long Booth knocked, so they went around to the building's service entrance, where they found a twenty-something man was unloading cases of beer out of the back of a truck, so immersed in his work that he didn't notice their approach until Booth called out to him. He looked startled, setting down his box and hopping out of the truck. Booth flashed his badge. "I'm FBI Agent Booth, this here is Dr. Brennan, and you are?" He didn't feel like wasting time.

Wiping sweat from his brow, the man approached them. "Mike Sanders." He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "This about Cora?" He looked anxious.

"You Cora's boyfriend?" Booth raised an eyebrow.

Quickly, Mike Sanders nodded. "Yep, that's me." He took another step toward them. "You find her?" Brennan had the feeling that his anxiety had little to do with the fear of being caught and everything to do with concern for his missing girlfriend. He hardly looked like the type of person who would kill their girlfriend but she knew all too well that looks could be deceiving and she hadn't missed the muscles in his arms when he was lifting cases of beer. Wouldn't be hard to overpower a girl Cora's size and build.

Pursing his lips, Booth nodded. "Unfortunately, Mr. Sanders, Cora's dead." Mike looked like he had taken a blow to the chest. "Maybe we could go inside, ask you a few questions."

Nodding numbing, Mike lead the way, holding open a rusty door that lead through the back halls of the Checker Box; they passed a kitchen and a room full of instruments and boxes, though the dim lighting made it difficult to see much of anything. Finally they reached the club itself, which was lit mostly by hazy stage lights, giving the place a bizarre funhouse feel. Booth took in his surroundings, which consisted of dozens of tables and even more chairs, an upper level, booths in the back and a stage that was the focal point of it all. There was a thin, balding man bearing a bit of a resemblance to a weasel standing towards the center of the room, arguing with a willowy, auburn haired young woman who didn't appear very happy about whatever they were discussing. Neither seemed to notice their approach.

Brennan stopped in her tracks when they entered the heart of the club, feeling like someone had clamped a vice around her throat, making breathing impossible. She felt like she had been doused in ice water and a sense of panic began to spread throughout her body. There was the stage, she could see herself on it, could hear her pathetic but entertaining attempts at singing echoing throughout the club; there was the door, through which Pam had entered and there was the spot she'd held a dying Booth in her arms, praying for the first time in her life for a miracle. She'd never wanted anything more in her life and her hopes hadn't been granted, at least, not in the traditional sense. The strength of everything was nearly unbearable, she felt like she was living it all over again, the panic, the fear, the certainty that she couldn't live without Booth but was going to have to. How could they be back here again? And with Booth so clueless, just like had been that night, of what was going to happen. Brennan felt her eyes rest on the door, as though waiting for Pam to walk through.

"Bones? Bones…?" Booth was calling her name but she felt like she could barely hear him. And yet, there he was, standing beside her, alive and well. "Bones, are you all right?" His concern for her was evident and ironic to her, seeing as he should be concerned for himself.

Brennan felt like she needed to touch him, to connect herself to this Booth, to this life, to make sure that the other life, that those memories didn't follow her. She felt as if her heart would break at that very moment without him. She took a step closer to him but her knees buckled, so strong was her reaction to being in the Checker Box. "Bones!" Booth caught her long before she was close to the floor, his hands around her arms, around her waist, depositing her in a chair. They had caught the attention of the arguing couple, who were watching them with interest and concern.

Booth looked up at Mike. "Get me some water." The man quickly rushed over to the bar. Booth rested his hand on her check and Brennan sighed, feeling very tired all of the sudden; he was warm, he was alive and everything else felt like it was slowly leaking away, the coldness leaving her body. Brennan put her arms around him and hugged him tightly; he could think she was weird or had lost her mind and might feel the need to commit her but at the moment she didn't care. Booth put his hand on her back and kept her there until she slowly pulled away, leaning back against her chair. "No more of this, Bones, I'm taking you to the hospital."

Brennan was about to protest (though it wasn't like she could explain herself) when the older man joined them, looking from Booth to Brennan and then back again. "What's going on? Is she all right?" He questioned, though he didn't seem entirely concerned. "And we're closed." He glared over at Mike, who was returning with the water, which Brennan took gratefully.

Pulling out his badge, Booth flashed it for the man, who blinked in surprise. "FBI." He looked back at Bones. "We're on our way out."

"Booth." Brennan protested, laying a hand on his elbow and causing him to lean in closer to her. "We might as well stay and question them." She whispered so only he could hear. It wasn't bad, being that close to him either. "If we have to come back, they might not all be here. Or might be…prepared…" She raised an eyebrow.

For a moment, Booth stared at her, looking like he wanted nothing more then to throw her over his shoulder and carry her to the nearest hospital. But he had never been very good at ignoring what she wanted, especially when she fixed him with those eyes of hers and he felt himself giving in. It didn't help his case to be close enough to kiss her either.

"FBI?" The older man was speaking once more, causing Booth to look over at him. The girl was at his side, looking agitated that they'd been interrupted, her eyes still fiery from their argument. "What does the FBI want with us?" He looked worried now, continuing to glare at Mike like he'd brought the whole thing down on them.

Putting away his badge, Booth leaned against the table, his attention on the three assorted figures in front of him, but close to Brennan, just in case. "We're investigating the murder of Cora Corman." Mike looked like he needed to sit down himself. "And you two are…?" He looked at the man and young woman expectantly.

Looking like he wasn't sure if he should hold out his hand for this introduction, the man said, "Robert Cullen, I own the Checker Box." He kept his hands where they were.

Booth's eyes shifted to the woman. She looked at him resentfully, as though she had better things to do then talk to attractive (if he did say so himself) FBI agents. "Kellie Sprinkle." She didn't offer anymore then that.

Glancing over at Brennan, Booth whistled. "Sprinkle. You make that one up yourself?" He raised an eyebrow.

His comments didn't seem to help Kellie's demeanor. "No, it's my real last name." She squared her jaw. "What's this all about anyway? I got to be at work in an hour."

Rolling his eyes, Booth remarked in a patronizing tone, "I'll write you a note if you're late Ms. _Sprinkle_." She, too, rolled her eyes. "I want to ask you all some questions about Cora Corman. That name ring a bell?"

Cullen nodded. "Yeah, of course. She used to sing here every time we had an Open Mike night. Crowd favorite." Again, Kellie rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "Real rival of Kellie's." Cullen gestured toward the girl with his chin. "They were always competing for the spotlight."

"There wasn't much to compete with." Kellie remarked. "Cora couldn't sing on pitch if her life depended on it." She shook her head. "This place has sounded much better since she left."

Brennan looked at her. "Cora didn't leave. She was murdered." Kellie looked surprised but not regretful.

The anthropologist couldn't help but wonder how literal the term 'cutthroat' really was when it came to describing the music industry.

* * *

Thirty minutes later Booth and Brennan were heading back to the Jeffersonian. Questioning Robert Cullen, Kellie Sprinkle and Mike Sanders hadn't yielded much, though Mike was on his way to the FBI building for further questioning and the other two had been instructed not to leave town. A sample of the potting soil was in Brennan's jacket pocket and Hodgins was eagerly awaiting its arrival.

"We might get more when we question them individually." Booth remarked but it seemed as though he was just making small talk. "I'd like to talk to that girl, Kellie Sprinkle, a little more too." He looked at Brennan and raised an eyebrow. "How's that for a stage name, huh?" Brennan looked at him. "Can't you just see her on _American Idol_?"

"I don't know what that means." Brennan muttered. "_American Idol_…?" Didn't ring a bell.

But Booth's attention was no longer on reality television; Brennan could see concern in his eyes when he looked at her. She found it hard to meet his gaze. "What was that back there, Bones? Are you sure you're all right?" He didn't sound like he'd believe her, whatever she said.

Brennan pursed her lips. "I'm fine. I'm just…tired." What was she waiting for? Her reaction in the club, her need to hold Booth, to be near him more than confirmed the way she felt about him yet she still wasn't doing anything about it. What was stopping her? Was it really the fear that Booth might not feel the same way, that she'd be humiliated and heartbroken? She didn't want to give Booth anymore control over her or her heart then he all ready had. Yet the way he looked at her, the way he'd held her…if he had feelings towards her, he could have easily said something long ago.

Nodding, Booth didn't look convinced. "Nightmares, right. Bones, I think you should call it a day; let me talk to Mike Sanders, you go back to your place and catch up on some sleep."

Even though Brennan nodded, they both knew she wasn't going to take his advice. Which didn't surprise Booth in the least; he didn't know anyone as stubborn as his partner.

* * *

Not only did Brennan not head back to her apartment for a little afternoon nap, she didn't even call it a night when the sun went down. She wasn't eager to have a repeat performance of last night's nightmares, even if that meant forgoing a little sleep in the process. By the next morning, her apartment was spotless, her books were organized by original copyright date, she had written a lengthy list of why each of their suspects could be Cora's murderer (though she knew Booth would throw it out with a patronizing smile because her theorizing was hardly up to par) and a decent chunk of her new novel. Her publishers would be very happy about that, at least.

Brennan was in the Jeffersonian before anyone other than the cleaning crew and she let herself into her office quietly, yawning and trying to keep her eyes from feeling so heavy. They had a case to work on, there was plenty for her to do, plenty to keep her awake. Yawning, Brennan sat down at her desk, opening up the file of evidence they had collected so far on Cora Corman; there wasn't much, but just looking at her picture, the smiling face of a girl who should be alive and doing what she loved right this very second…it made looking over what they did have important. She rested her cheek in the palm of her head, her elbow on her desk as she read.

But, try as she might, Brennan couldn't keep her eyes open past the first page; her body seemed to have other plans for her as she slipped into sleep, though it was no a dreamless one.

Brennan wasn't aware that she had fallen asleep until she awoke with a start, seized in the cold grip of panic once more. She felt caught between waking and dreaming, trapped in the nightmare she couldn't seem to escape whether she was sleep or not. "Sweetie! Sweetie!" She felt arms around her, heard the echoes of Angela's voice, trying to pull her from the images in her mind, the fear and panic. "Brennan! Wake up!"

Gasping, Brennan's eyes flew open and she found herself facing the very concerned face of her best friend, who looked slightly panicked herself. "Sweetie…" Angela's voice was soothing and she found that it eased her heart rate. "It was just a dream…" She smoothed Brennan's hair away from her face and Brennan found that her forehead and cheeks were sticky with sweat. "You're okay, you're okay." Angela hugged her tightly.

Shaking her head, Brennan slumped back in her chair, closing her eyes and running her hands through her hair. "I have no idea…" She looked back at Angela. "I didn't mean to fall asleep." She looked around her. The office was empty aside from her and the artist. Her nightmare, the images of her holding Booth on the floor of the club, him dying in her arms and her absolute helpless…that was the reason she had been staving off sleeping in the first place.

Nodding, Angela held her hand. "It's okay. We decided to let you sleep, Booth said we should." Brennan looked around again as though expecting to see Booth in the corner or on her couch. She was only slightly relieved to find that he wasn't there; if he'd witnessed this most recent reaction, he'd never leave her alone. "I came in to drop something off and you were yelling…" She gave Brennan a sympathetic look. "Sweetie, you were yelling Booth's name."

Brennan blinked at her in surprise. It made sense for her to be shouting out the name of her partner, she had been dreaming about him…shouting for him to stay with her, begging him…she shuddered.

"Look, Brennan, I know that you see no shortage of things to fill your nightmares with but…do you want to talk about it?" Angela questioned softly, giving her friend's hand another squeeze.

Swallowing, Brennan shook her head, getting to her feet. She pulled her hair back into her a ponytail so she wouldn't have to worry about her appearance and wiping her cheeks with the heels of her hands. She had the feeling that some of the dampness on her skin came from tears. Angela handed her a tissue and she used it to wipe the rest of her face. She wasn't exactly looking her best, but she didn't mind so much at the moment. "I'm just going to get some water."

Nodding, Angela followed her out of the office. "I could use some more coffee anyway."

They rode the elevator to the cafeteria in silence, though Angela held Brennan's hand tightly. They reached the cafeteria, they found it busier then it had been yesterday, though no one paid them any attention. Brennan glanced over toward the table cluttered with all the necessities for a good Jeffersonian cup of coffee and saw Booth grimacing as he poured sugar into his cup. She had hoped he would be up her, figuring that he was killing time, letting her sleep and the fact that she was still holding Angela's hand was what kept her from running over to him.

Booth looked up in surprise. "Bones, you're supposed to be sleeping." He took in her appearance with concern, but said nothing. "You didn't listen to me, did you? You didn't sleep last night?" He accused her.

Angela got a ceramic Jeffersonian coffee mug from the table and started to fill it, pretending not to be listening to their conversation.

Shrugging, Brennan waved her hand dismissively. "I…no. I didn't but…" Suddenly she felt seized with panic all over again. But she couldn't take it anymore, the nightmares, the fear, the utter panic at the thought of living without Booth…she just couldn't handle it. "I…" She couldn't lie to herself about her feelings for him anymore. And even if he didn't feel the same way, she could handle that, could take whatever came, but at least she'd know. And no regrets meant no regrets. "Would you like to go out with me?" Not exactly the most eloquent of proposals, but it would do.

Behind her, Angela dropped her coffee mug, which shattered on the ground, causing Brennan and Booth to turn and look at her. Angela gaped at her in surprise, her mouth hanging open, before looking down at the mess she'd created. "Oh…shit…sorry." She grabbed a handful of napkins and knelt down. "Just…ignore me…continue what you're doing…_please_." She started blotting at the spill.

Brennan looked back at Booth shyly, worried as to his reaction to her words. He, too, looked surprised but handled it better than Angela; he still had his coffee cup. "Go out…like to dinner?"

Brennan's mouth felt dry and stuffed with cotton. "Sure." She croaked nervously. "Or to a movie…or…" She wished she could look back at Angela and get some advice on what normal people did on dates. But dinner and movies…those were date things, right?

Clearing his throat, Booth raised an eyebrow. "Bones, are you asking me out on a date?" She shrugged, looking down at her feet briefly before looking back up at him. He was smiling, which she took as a very good sign. "Okay. Dinner. Right." His smile grew wider with every word. "Sounds great."

"Great." Brennan felt warmer then she had in days. The nightmares that seemed to have such a hold on her were slowly slipping away.

**PS...** To answer any unasked questions, yes Sprinkle can be someone's real last name. My best friend's name is Kellie Sprinkle and "coincidently" she happens to be an amazing singer. Just thought I'd throw that in there.


	7. Into the Light of a Dark Black Night

**AN: **So here it is...another chapter. Thanks for all the reviews on the last one! I just love them, so keep them up! I'm glad that you guys enjoy this story so much. I'm not so sure about this chapter...I hope it stands up to your expectations. Feel free to comment, criticize, offer suggestions...I'm up for it all. And, wow, I had no idea there were so many Sprinkles out there. Seems to be a pretty common last name after all. So, once again, thanks for all the reviews, it means so much to me! Keep them up and I hope you enjoy this chapter! Also, I have to give credit where credit is due: there are two mentions of the best band in the world (ever, if I do say so myself) in this chapter: The Beatles, the first being the title of this chapter. So, yay for The Beatles! Anyway...enjoy!

**Into the Light of a Dark Black Night **

At least Brennan was finally using her bed for something. It had been un-slept in since the first batch of nightmares (though it did look quite enticing) but was now acting as a storage space for all the clothes she had once kept in her closet. Tops, bottoms, skirts, dresses, blouses, the works were slung about her room in a manner Brennan thought only a teenager was capable of; she had the feeling she'd be finding outfits under her bed and in corners for weeks. There was very little left in the closet at the moment, though Brennan stood regarding the outfits like they were a set of bones. Unfortunately the outfits had very little to say.

Pursing her lips, Brennan turned away from her closet and looked at the carnage on her bed. She almost wished she had accepted Angela's offer to come over and help her get ready for her date (though Brennan was adamant about the fact that it was not a date just dinner between friends and partners…though she was quickly loosing that conviction) but Brennan had the feeling that stumbling through the clothing forest on her own was better then putting up with Angela's well-intentioned comments and suggestions about just how the date should end. Though disappointed, Angela had accepted her friend's decision to go it alone with a hug and one last comment: "Reminds me of my first date with Hodgins. And look at us now." But Brennan had only given her friend a doubtful look. "I hardly think Booth and I will be getting married anytime soon. Or even. It's just dinner."

But if it was just dinner then why was she standing there among all of the clothes that would have been perfectly fine for a day or work or to testify at court but somehow not good enough for dinner with Booth. Brennan figured that was where the problem lay: Booth saw her almost every day of her life and had seen her in almost every outfit she had thrown out of her closet and she wanted to wear something new, something different, something he'd never seen before. Brennan blushed when she realized it was because she wanted Booth to see her tonight and think of her as something other then his partner, to think she was beautiful. She prided herself on being able to separate herself from people, on not needing the acceptance and companionship that human beings as a species needed so badly but was she really so different after all?

Sighing, Brennan went back to her closet, pushing through the remaining hangers. Nothing caught her attention, nothing seemed to stand out. In the very back of her closet hung a dress still enclosed in dry cleaner's plastic. It wasn't until she had pulled it out of its corner that she even remembered the outfit: a simple deep blue dress with a V-neck dip, falling just above her knees. Her publishers had sent it to her in hopes that she would wear something more then jeans and a tee-shirt to a book signing but clearly Brennan hadn't shared their vision. She could barely even remember the dress, no doubt the last time it had entered her thoughts was when she was stuffing to into the back of her closet.

Now Brennan couldn't help but wonder if maybe she had been saving it for such an occasion. She was not the type of person to believe in things like coincidence or some divine master plan; if there _was _a master plan, it would certainly not include clothing choices. But, nonetheless, not having worn the dress before made it, by the default, the perfect outfit for tonight's…date. It wasn't overly dressy so that she looked like she had tried too hard and was expecting more out of this evening then she should be (not that Brennan was entirely sure what she was expecting anyway) but it was better then going in wrinkled pajamas with her hair in a ponytail. Simple, but elegant. Something Angela would approve of.

With the dress on, hugging her curves and calling subtle attention to all of the right places, Brennan found that everything else about her appearance just seemed to fall into place. Hair down, makeup as light and subtle as her newly highlighted body (not that her curves were anything new to Booth, unbeknownst to the anthropologist) and a pair of shoes she figured went with the dress completed Brennan's appearance. She doubted that Booth had put even half as much thought into getting ready as she had and she envied him; he could throw on any old thing and still looking amazing…hardly the type of thing to think about your partner.

Given the amount of time it had taken her to get ready, Brennan was glad that she had insisted on meeting Booth at La Trattori, the Italian restaurant he had suggested shortly before they went their separate ways that evening, because she had taken so much time to get ready. She was glad that Booth wasn't sitting in her living room, waiting impatiently for her to finish pulling herself together. She had been under enough pressure as it was.

On the way to the restaurant, Brennan found that she was jittery, something she was hardly used to. She just didn't get nervous, not in mass graves in the Sudan, not facing down serial killers or reading to thousands of her avid fans but she was certainly nervous now. Her body was exhibiting all the usual signs of anxiety: dry mouth, sweaty palms, irregular heartbeat. As she jumped radio stations, unable to settle on a genre of music, Brennan tried to force herself to remember that it was Booth she was going to meet for dinner, just charmingly protective, sometimes funny, undecipherable Seeley Booth. Her partner. The man who had proved he would die for her.

Forgoing the channel surfing for focusing on calming her nerves, Brennan left the station on an oldies station, one of her favorites and used the red light she was currently stopped at to take a deep breath. It was only Booth, he was her best friend, they were just having dinner, it was hardly a world crisis. The current song on the radio faded into one by The Beatles and George Harrison's voice couldn't help catch her attention as he sang, "If I fell in love with you…" Brennan looked at the radio, not missing the irony, feeling slightly betrayed; she switched the station with a roll of her eyes.

By the time she reached La Trattori, Brennan felt relatively at ease and more like herself. It wasn't like she and Booth had never gone out to dinner before and she figured she could ignore the subtle change in their relationship, the way things had shifted from them being simply partners to something more. Even if things didn't work out and they realized they had no romantic chemistry, they had opened the door to a new level in their relationship and she figured she could live with that.

The hostess at La Trattori stopped midway through her chipper greeting and regarded Brennan with wide eyes. "Oh my gosh, you're Dr. Temperance Brennan." Slowly, Brennan nodded, glancing around her self-consciously. "I love your books! You're _amazing_!" It wasn't often that Brennan found herself recognized in public but whenever she met a fan she found herself filled with the same awkward embarrassment, unsure of what to do or say. "Your date said that you'd be here tonight but I didn't believe it was the same person." The hostess looked like she was in danger of passing out.

"My date." Brennan glanced around the restaurant. So Booth was all ready here. "Where is he?"

Recovering herself, the hostess nodded rapidly, coming out from behind the host's stand, clutching a menu just to have something to do. "Oh, of course. He's right this way." She gestured for Brennan to follow her into the heart of the restaurant. "Oh my gosh, I can't believe I'm actually meeting you. I have to get your autograph." The girl seemed content just to prattle on to herself. "Is the guy you're having dinner with the guy from your books?" She looked at Brennan expectantly.

"Uh…well…" Brennan wasn't entirely sure how to answer the question. She was still having trouble keeping up with the fast-talking girl.

Ignoring her lack of reply, the hostess continued, "I totally think Kathy and Andy should hook up." She gave Brennan a knowing smile that the anthropologist thought Angela would really appreciate. "Maybe in the next book." She glanced over toward a table in the corner and smiled. "Here you are, Dr. Brennan." She used the menu to gesture toward the table.

Brennan looked in the direction the hostess had indicated and locked eyes with Booth. He was half out of his chair, like he was in the process of getting to his feet but had stopped with one hand on the table, his attention focused solely on her. Never before had Brennan had anyone look at her like that and she felt self-coconscious all over again, like maybe she had done something wrong, forgotten something before walking out the door. She felt like she was seeing Booth for the first time, that he was a stranger and not her partner…a stranger whom she felt knew her better than any other person alive.

Quickly, Booth recovered himself, getting completely to his feet. Smiling, Booth held out a hand, a gesture for her to join him. As though she had been waiting her entire life for him to ask, Brennan went to him.

"Wow, Bones…you look great." Brennan felt her cheeks flush and hoped Booth didn't notice in the dim lighting. "Beautiful. You look beautiful." Booth met her eyes once more and smiled deeply.

They took their seats and Booth found that it was hard to keep his eyes off her. Harder then usual. He had always been under the opinion that Brennan looked good in whatever she wore, whether it be a shapeless lab coat or a tee and ratty old jeans but it seemed like she had been keeping this little dress a secret and for good reason too. If he'd seen her in it before, it would have been nearly impossible for him to remind himself that they were just partners and nothing more. It was hard to ignore someone in a dress that wasn't flashy or showy but beautiful, much like the person who was wearing it.

Clearing her throat, Brennan fidgeted with a lock of hair. "Stop staring at me, Booth." She requested, though she didn't mind so much. "It's like you've never seen a woman in a dress before." She raised an eyebrow, as though daring him to refute her statement.

Rolling his eyes, Booth shook his head. "You just look good, Bones, okay?" He sounded almost shy and self-coconscious himself, as though he never would have believed he'd be in such a position. "Besides, you shouldn't have worn the dress if you didn't want people to stare." He pointed behind her and Brennan turned in her chair to see that she'd gotten the attention of another, older man at one of the tables behind theirs, much to the chagrin of his wife. Brennan didn't much care for the attention of the man behind her but she did have to admit that it was nice that Booth couldn't help but state as well. It was the first time she allowed herself to entertain the idea that Booth might have feelings for her as well; she could rationalize anything and everything, could always find some other explanation for something that appeared black and white. Like Booth taking the bullet meant to kill her: he had been doing his duty, keeping her safe and protecting his partner. But now Brennan didn't have as much trouble allowing herself to consider other possibilities.

As she turned back to look at Booth, Brennan gave him an uncharacteristically shy smile. "Thank you. You look nice as well." More then nice. Handsome, ravishing… She unrolled her silverware and put her napkin in her lap, to anxious not to give her hands something to do. Booth was smirking at her, that cocky smile that infuriated her as much as it attracted her.

Their server appeared then, her smiling belaying that she was more interested in a good tip then them having a good dinner, though she did a good job of hiding it. She ran through the whole spiel of introducing herself and talking up the restaurant, took their drink orders and disappeared once more.

Brennan picked up her menu, using it as an excuse not to stare at Booth, hoping that by the time she lowered the thickly bound menu she'd have thought of something to say that wasn't awkward, small talk or the type of conversation two people on a real first day would mender around. She and Booth were well past the small talk stage, romantic lighting and a fancy restaurant shouldn't change that.

Picking up his own menu, Booth pretended to look over the selections as well, but he was far more interested in the woman sitting across from him then he was in the salad options. As she always seemed to do, Brennan had caught him off guard yet again, blindsiding him completely with her invitation and then with her beauty and he allowed himself to believe that she had gotten all dressed up just for him. "So, Bones," her eyes flicked up to him quickly, "not that I mind but I gotta ask…what's with the date?" Brennan said nothing but seemed to sink behind her menu ever so slightly. "We've been partners for more than three years…" He decided to let her fill in the blanks.

Clearing her throat, Brennan set down her menu, smoothing her napkin in her lap absently. She'd had the feeling Booth would ask such a question and figured she should have come up with some sort of answer, something to tell him that clearly wasn't the truth. But then again, what was so bad about just giving him an honest reply, cutting out the whole Pam Nunan, second-chance, rewind ordeal. Had she really become the type of woman who wouldn't let anyone in, not even the person she trusted more then anyone else? Had she become that jaded by what she'd seen and what she'd gone through? She had always sworn she'd never become that girl yet here she was, sitting in a restaurant with the one man who seemed to make disregarding her hard-earned and hard-kept ideals not such a bad idea, trying to figure out how to lie to him.

Then again, Brennan found that she hadn't gained much from being open in her life. She'd tried to open up to Sully, tried to let him into her life the way he deserved and had ended up waiting him sail away.

"Well…" Brennan toyed with her silverware, clinking the utensils together. At least she was making some kind of noise. "I had been thinking…" She looked up at him. "What if Angela has been right this whole time. About us." No one would recognize her now; where had the wordy and articulate Dr. Brennan gone off to.

Even though Booth had been waiting to hear such a statement come out of her mouth since they met (whether he'd admit it to himself or not), he managed to keep from leaning across the table and kissing her right there. He might be very good at disguising his attraction for her in teasing and a faux-reluctance at their partnership but there was no denying the fact that she was the most unique woman he'd ever met, in all the right ways. She was intelligent, witty, beautiful and, even though she tried to hide it, caring and sensitive; Brennan made a show of keeping out the outside world, at distancing herself from even the people she held closest to her. Booth had always hoped that one day she'd finally let him in, body and soul, trust him with the woman she seemed determined to keep hidden from everyone else. But Brennan, for all her strengths, was hardly the type of woman you rushed on any account, even when all he'd wanted to do for the better part of three years was prove to her that she could trust him completely, to show her all the ways she'd made him a better person. And he wanted to tell her all of that now, but could tell that Brennan was still catching up with the changing situation. Instead he offered her yet another cocky, puppy dog smile. "Bones…you trying to tell me you like me?" He raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Told you…no one's able to resist for long."

"_Booth_…" Brennan could feel the protest rattling around in her mouth, the constant need to deny what she was feeling. It was a defensive motive, something that had worked so well in the past. But now she was starting to feel like it was keeping her from the things she might really want in her life. "You have certain qualities that make you a very acceptable candidate for a mate: your alpha male personality, females like to feel like they and their offspring will be taken care of…and…" She looked up at him, into his now gently smiling face, his deep brown eyes that spoke more about him then he'd ever say himself. And right now she could see something of the longing was surely mirrored in her own. "Maybe."

Before Booth could say anything more, confess that she had her own certain qualities that made her a very acceptable candidate for a mate, their server returned (her poor timing made Booth want to knock her tip down by a few bucks), setting their drinks on the table. When she asked if they were ready to order, Brennan blinked in surprise. "I haven't even looked at the menu." She admitted with a blush, causing the server to smile knowingly and leave with the promise to return when they were ready. Booth hoped that her timing would be better this time; her appearance could have possibly caused Brennan to regress back into a state of denial.

Wordlessly, Booth extended his hand across the table and after a second's hesitation, Brennan took it, allowing him to twine their fingers together. In that instant she knew without a doubt that he hadn't taken Pam Nunan's bullet for her because of obligation.

Softly, Booth kissed her knuckles, smiling at her. "You're an amazing woman, Temperance Brennan."

And she knew there was no going back now.

* * *

Not that she was surprised, but Brennan quickly found that her previous anxiety was all for nothing and that being with Booth in a more romantic way was just like being with Booth any other day of the week. Over dinner they talked about work (though that was a topic Booth quickly changed when Brennan started speaking of a case she'd once worked where a person had been fed –rather unsuccessfully- into a garbage disposal), the other Squints, Parker and, with some difficulty, a movie Booth had seen on television a few nights ago that Brennan had never heard of. It was different, but nice, to be with Booth without the pressure of work, of having to be at her sharpest and quickest, to constantly need to deliver. Now she was just Temperance Brennan, not a brilliant, top of her field crime solving forensic anthropologist but simply a woman with a man, who accepted her for who she was. Even if she had no idea what _Mission Impossible_ was.

After they'd eaten and paid the check, Brennan found that she was in no hurry to head home; lack of sleep was the last thing on her mind as she accepted Booth's invitation to take a walk down town, through the historic district.

The area was set up to attract tourists, with souvenir shops, boutiques selling anything and everything, from the latest fashions to the downright quirky. In spite of the steadily growing hour, no one seemed willing to close their doors to the crowds milling about outside; live music blared from restaurants, creating a chaotic atmosphere with all the different genres. Smells from the restaurants and the street-side kiosks and carts that sold ice cream, candies and other sweets mingled in the air along with the shouts of the crowds and the noise of traffic.

Brennan realized that she'd never taken the time to do much wandering around; it seemed true what they said, that you could live in some place for years but never truly explore it. She'd always been too busy with work, or…work. Her most common excuse. But now she was out with Booth, window-shopping and enjoying the atmosphere and the feel of everything. Booth tentatively took her hand and she let him, feeling her heart skip a beat. She really was nothing better then a high school girl on her first date.

Booth indulged her when she wanted to go into a used-bookstore full of messy stacks that would take months to go through and into a hole-in-the-wall boutique where she bought a necklace she was sure Angela would love but soon they were back on the streets, simply enjoying the night air and, if Brennan were being completely honest, each other.

"So why all of the sudden?" Booth questioned quite suddenly himself, causing Brennan to look over at him. "Three years is a long time; you could have spoken up earlier." Then again, so could he. But he'd made the promise to himself long ago that he wouldn't say anything unless she did.

Brennan thought of Pam Nunan, the hospital, the strange man who'd given her the second chance. "You wouldn't believe me." She muttered and Booth raised an eyebrow, causing her to shrug. "I just…I don't want to have any regrets." She must have tensed subconsciously, her reaction to any memory dealing with the events that had taken place in the Checker Box because Booth's hand moved from hers to around her waist, holding her closer. "I just…I wanted to know." Her voice grew quieter with every word as she grew self-conscious and unsure. So far everything had been wonderful, perfect in a way Brennan never would have imagined but there was still so much at stake, so much uncertainty to their situation; she had cemented her feelings towards Booth tonight but there were still so many other factors to the equation, too many things to consider.

They had stopped walking down and Booth turned to face her. "Know what?"

In his eyes, Brennan could see, perhaps for the first time, a sense of uncertainty in a man she thought of as rock solid. She wasn't the only person entering uncharted waters, wasn't the one person in this relationship. "About us. How you felt…about me." She looked down at her feet.

Booth took her face in his hands, tilting her chin upward so they met eyes again. Instead of answering he kissed her gently, his palms resting against her cheeks, unable to keep from smiling slightly when he felt her breath catch. So this was what it was like to kiss Temperance Brennan, much like everything else about her: subtle and intoxicating.

Brennan had never felt more vulnerable than she did in that moment, but she trusted Booth with that vulnerability and it felt reassuring, like she'd taken a huge weight off herself she hadn't even known she was carrying. When she pulled away, she offered Booth a smile, her eyes sparkling. "No regrets." And she kissed him again.

**PS...**Now I feel like I can't end a chapter without talking about some movie or another. So, um, anyone seen _The Strangers_...I found it very frightening and disturbing. Ugh! Not quite sure why I mentioned it. Spooky. Anyway...so that's it then


	8. Sitting on a Citadel, Contemplating Life

**AN: **You guys are AMAZING and you know why. Thanks again! So, I'm going on vacation tonight/tomorrow morning at around 2 AM and while I'm taking my computer, I might not be able to update for the next few days. Just so you guys know I didn't forget about you! I'll have more chapters ready when I return. I hope that you guys enjoy this chapter; I hope Booth and Brennan stay in character, I'm having a little trouble with how they'd deal with the relationship so please, please feel free to offer comments, suggestions...the like. Good to hear that you guys haven't seen "The Strangers"...I think you all had the right idea. So, please review and enjoy!! I'll catch you guys soon!

**Sitting on a Citadel, Contemplating Life**

The next morning, Brennan was entirely unsure of how to act upon seeing Booth. As usual, she felt the need to calculate and plan everything out, accounting for every detail and variance. Their evening had ended wonderfully, better than she ever could have hoped, parting with a kiss that had drawn whistles and cat-calls from the other groups out on the town. Booth had left with the assurance that he'd see her tomorrow, which of course made perfect sense because they were still partners and had a case that needed their attention but somehow Brennan couldn't help but feel like there was a double meaning to his words, a promise somehow. She wondered that night as she had tentatively laid down to sleep, figuring that she couldn't put off sleeping for much longer, when she had become such a cliché: a young, independent and self-sufficient woman falling for her partner. It seemed like the plot to some television show.

Thankfully, her sleep had been completely dreamless and Brennan woke the next morning grateful that Pam Nunan hadn't plagued her nightmares once more. Maybe there was something to be said for that second-chance, no regrets mumbo-jumbo…once she had held up her end of the bargain the nightmares had disappeared and she'd gotten a few kisses from Booth in the process.

In spite of the wonderful evening they'd had the night before and the fact that Brennan's feelings for Booth were even more concrete then they'd been before, she wasn't sure how to act around him when they were in a professional setting. This was one of the reason she'd wanted to avoid a romantic relationship with him; she was worried about how it would affect their professional lives and the cases they worked together. She knew that Angela would be ravenous for details when she arrived at the lab and that her friend had undoubtedly mentioned the turn of events to Hodgins, but Brennan was certain that Cam and Zack would be unaware of her date with Booth. She thought about the relationship that Booth and Cam had once had, how they'd managed to keep it professional and private, though it hadn't ended well. Not that she was expecting a marriage proposal… But how would Cam react to the idea of her dating her ex-flame? She and Cam all ready butted heads enough, the last thing Brennan felt like she needed was to get on the doctor's bad side once again.

Not surprisingly, Brennan was at the lab before any of the rest of her team and she used the quiet time to go over the profiles Sweets had provided, as well as Cora Corman's remains. Zack had yet to turn up cause of death, which was troubling. If only her memory, so sharp at producing memories of Booth's death could help her with this area of the case. But Brennan found her thoughts drifting towards Booth as she read the documents Sweets had written, unable to keep from thinking about the way it had felt to finally kiss him (so different from the forced kiss under the mistletoe at Christmas), to have his arms around her, to know that he was thinking only of her in that moment. And thoughts of Booth's lips and Booth's hands started to lend themselves to _other_ thoughts about Booth's lips and Booth's hands…

Sighing, Brennan tossed aside the folder. She was never going to get any work done at this rate. But more time had passed then she'd been aware of during her daydreaming and before Brennan could focus her mind on work and work along her office door swung open and Angela, as expected, came flying in. A glance at the clock showed that she was earlier then usual and Brennan had the feeling her friend had made a point of getting her early for a little gossip.

Angela was holding two cups of coffee, one of which she shoved into her friend's hand as she drug a chair over to Brennan's desk, dropping into it eagerly. "Okay, sweetie, tell me everything." She grinned so widely that Brennan was sure she was going to disappoint.

Never one for gossip, especially when it concerned her, Brennan decided to try and put the conversation off. She handed Angela the necklace she'd gotten her last night, which barely registered on her friend's radar. "Oh, it's beautiful, thanks sweetie." The necklace dropped onto the desk, forgotten. "Now tell me about your date with Booth. "Was it totally romantic? Where did you go? What did you do? Did he kiss you?" Brennan's cheeks betrayed her before she could even fumble with a reply. "He did!" Angela pulled Brennan into a tight hug. "I told you that Booth liked you. Aren't you glad you went out with him? Are you going out again?" She raised an eyebrow.

Brennan wasn't entirely sure which question to answer first. "It was…nice." She replied with a shrug and Angela gave her a look. "Yes, it was romantic. Yes, I'm glad I went out with him."

Again, Angela smiled widely. "See, it wasn't scary was it? The world is still in one piece and you're happy." She rested her hand on Brennan's knee. "And it's okay for you to be happy. Especially if it's with Booth."

"Ange, it's not like I was _afraid_ to ask Booth out. That's ridiculous."

Raising an eyebrow, Angela regarded the anthropologist closely. "Sweetie, we all know how much Booth means to you, you don't want to loose him." Brennan fought the urge to roll her eyes at Angela's statement; she all ready knew what it was like to loose him. "It's only natural that you'd think that getting closer to him, romantically, would make that happen." Brennan opened her mouth to protest but wasn't given the chance. "You know it's true, even if you wouldn't admit it to herself. I mean, look what happened with Sully…you two started to get close and then, wham, he's sailing away and you don't even get a postcard." Brennan said nothing, because the only thing to do would be to admit that she was right. "You think everything in your life is going to leave you."

"Well, thanks for putting it like that, Angela." Brennan huffed, rolling her eyes. "I do not think that. I'm a rational woman, I don't believe in bad-luck or…being cursed." Just second-chances that erase the events of another life.

Shrugging, Angela knew that the best thing to do, at the moment, was to let the conversation go. She could only do so much to make Brennan come to terms with the hurt and fears she kept buried as far down as possible to avoid dealing with them; Booth would have to be the one to get her to let go. "So…you kissed. I always wanted to know what it was like to kiss Booth…I bet he's an amazing kisser." Again, Brennan felt herself blushing and felt betrayed by her body's unsanctioned reaction. "Just image what else he's amazing at." Angela grinned wickedly.

Getting to her feet, Brennan shook her head. "Angela, please. Booth is my partner." She started out of her office with Angela quickly on her heels.

"Oh, no, sweetie, you can't use that excuse anymore." Angela protested as they headed to the lab proper. "You're past partners now. You're like…_partners_." Brennan was impressed how she could make the word sound like it had so many implications.

They reached the lab just as Cam was swiping her security badge, nodding to some mile-a-minute statement Zack was making, though it looked like her attention was elsewhere. Cam brightened considerably when she noticed Angela and Brennan approaching. "Good morning ladies." She interrupted Zack, who blinked but didn't appear too put off. "What did you do last night? Something normal, I hope." She looked warily at Zack, though he had all ready moved on.

Angela's gaze slid over to Brennan and she smirked. "Nothing." Brennan said, looking over at Angela and then back at Cam, shrugging and shaking her head. "Nothing, I didn't do anything." Cam raised an eyebrow but looked like she didn't want to question the statement for fear of what Brennan might say.

As Zack verbally went over all the things he had learned from the bones, which wasn't much and Brennan added in what they'd learned from questioning those closest to Cora (all information they'd gone over continuously, she felt like they were reaching a dead end), Booth arrived, stepping up the stairs and joining the team by the examining table. "Well, boyfriend's alibi seems to check out." He seemed disappointed. "He works another job, security for a mall; he was there around the time Cora would have disappeared. He's on the tapes and everything." He came up to stand behind Angela and Brennan, his hand resting on the small of her back as it was often prone to do. "Morning, Bones." He gave her a smile that she quickly returned.

Angela couldn't help but grin, though she tried to hide the gesture by pursing her lips. Cam looked up, her eyes flickering from Booth to Brennan before dropping back down to the skeleton. Brennan decided it was best to ignore her look, it could be completely unrelated to them; after all, Booth had only greeted her, much like he would every other morning, there was nothing for Cam to suspect whatsoever.

As Zack began theorizing as to possible cause of death and why there was no bone evidence, Hodgins joined them, completing the famed and infamous Squint Squad. "The soil you found outside the Checker Box matches the soil I found on Cora. Definitely the last place she was before she was dumped into that bog." He looked over at Booth with a grin. "How'd the date go last night, man?" He questioned, as though Brennan wasn't standing right beside the man he was addressing.

Booth narrowed his eyes, looking like he was ready to punch Hodgins right there. Cam looked up once more. "What date?" She glanced over at Hodgins. "Who's dating?" Hodgins looked over at Angela, who gave him a look that he'd seen many times before when he was about to end up in the dog house.

"Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan went out on a date last night." Zack said, his eyes and attention solely on the skull he was turning slowly about in his hands, his voice indifferent. "I believe it was of a romantic nature and not platonic. It only makes sense; Dr. Brennan has been standing increasingly close to Agent Booth over the past few days, which indicates that she is unwilling to be separated from him." Zack put down the skull and picked up another bone. "Plus she has been dreaming about him." Hodgins looked guilty and Angela smacked him across the back of the head.

Blushing, Brennan looked down at her feet, completely uncertain of what to say. Booth met eyes with Cam and he was uncertain of what he saw there: hurt, perhaps, but not surprise. There was a beat of silence before Cam stepped in. "Well, thank you Zack for that horribly awkward and scientific look into Dr. Brennan's personal life." Zack glanced up at his colleagues, looking surprised. "But we still have a killer to catch, so…get to it people." Hodgins was the first one to head back to his office with Angela following close behind.

Clearing his throat, Booth looked over at Brennan. "Let's…go see Sweets, huh, Bones? See if he's got anything new for us." Brennan was only too eager to get away from Cam's stare, following Booth towards the elevator.

Smirking as he pressed the button for the parking garage, Booth looked over at his companion. "So you've been dreaming about me, huh?" He raised an eyebrow, smiling.

"No." Brennan protested, but she knew that Booth would never buy it. "You were in the snake dream." She mumbled.

Pursing his lips, Booth raised an eyebrow. "You know, Bones, I'm starting to think this 'snake dream' never really happened." They stepped out of the elevator and headed towards the car. "I think that, really, you've been dreaming about me and the snake thing is just a cover." Brennan had to admit that he wasn't far off, though the dreams were nothing of the type Booth was surely imaging. "That's why you called me at five in the morning the other day." He seemed pleased with himself. It felt nice to know that his feelings towards her, the deep and almost incapacitating love and affection he felt for her wasn't one-sided. Even of what she felt for him wasn't as strong, at least it was there, at least she cared for him.

Brennan turned to him, preparing to refute his (true) statement but Booth kissed her, silencing her quickly. She felt herself seem to melt against him, useless in his hands, one of which was around her waist, the other in her hair. "Morning." He murmured against her lips, getting a smile and another kiss in reply. He had to admit that he felt relief that the Brennan he was with now was the same one he'd been with the night before; though Booth had tried not to dwell too much on it, he had been worried that overnight she would have somehow managed to rationalize everything about the night before, that she would somehow talk herself out of the way things were progressing and have a list a mile long as to why they should remain partners and friends and nothing more. But it seemed that he'd had nothing to worry about, that the woman he was quickly falling for still seemed to find some attraction in him.

When they finally separated for good (Brennan resisted the impulse to kiss Booth one last time) she looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "This is going to be difficult, isn't it?" He gave her a questioning look. "Concentrating on the case."

Laying a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, Booth gave her a knowing smile. "Don't worry, Bones, you're not the first woman I've distracted."

Brennan wanted to throttle him, to wipe that irritatingly cocky alpha male smirk off his face. But she settled for kissing him instead.

* * *

When Booth and Brennan arrived in Sweets' office, the young doctor was quick to notice a change in the partners he'd been seeing for a better part of a year. "Your entire posture has changed, Dr. Brennan." He remarked without preamble. "You seem far more open than usual, like you've loosen up." Brennan glanced down at herself, trying to see what Sweets was commenting on. "It's very nice, Dr. Brennan. You seem much happier this morning." He grinned at her.

"I don't understand everyone's fascination with us." Brennan remarked, looking over at Booth. "It's slightly unnerving."

Raising an eyebrow, Sweets looked from one to the other. "I was only talking about you, Dr. Brennan. Not you and Agent Booth." The phone in Brennan's pocket started to ring, but the psychologist continued on. "Is there an 'us' between you and Agent Booth?" He looked increasingly excited, though Brennan ignored him to answer her phone.

"Look, Sweets, I know you're still in high school and all, but save the lunchroom gossip, all right?" Booth raised an eyebrow. "It's not like we're running for prom couple."

Brennan hung up the phone and looked at her male companions. "That was Angela. She found Cora Corman's Myspace and thinks it might be useful for us to check out."

Sweets sat down at his computer, pulling in the address Brennan fed to him while Booth pulled up two chairs, sitting down beside Brennan. Sweets looked over at them with a smile. "Sitting next to Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth?" The man looked at him blankly. "You two usually stand on opposite sides."

"Can you just…" Booth jabbed a finger at the computer. "Focus, please. Has no one ever heard of privacy."

On the screen, a video of Cora singing on the stage of the Checker Box started automatically and the three crowded around the computer fell silent, studying the video with interest. She looked at home beneath the bright lights as she sang a song Brennan couldn't place but Booth couldn't help but tap along to; Cora seemed to be feeding off the energy of the crowd, growing more energetic and enthused with each passing second. "She's quite good." Brennan remarked, looking over at Booth and Sweets were their agreement.

"She's a very presentational singer." Sweets remarked. "She's performing solely for the praise and reaction of the crowd."

Booth looked over at him. "How can you tell that?" Cora just looked like she was having a good time to him, enjoying belting out her rendition of one of Mariah Carey's hits.

"Well, if you look here," Booth leaned forward, level with Brennan now. He turned slightly to meet her gaze and she smiled, causing him to return the gesture. "Well…don't let me interrupt." Sweets remarked and they both looked at him and his victoriously smiling face. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, seeming quite smug.

Pursing his lips, Booth looked like he was about to hit Sweets with yet another threat, prompting Brennan to quickly interrupt. "Look," she pointed at the screen and Booth and Sweets followed her finger. "A list of the other places Cora was going to be performing." The list was substantial. "It seemed that she was quite successful."

Booth looked doubtful. "Booking open-mic nights and graduation parties is hardly successful." He remarked with a roll of his eyes.

"Bullfrogz…I've heard of that place." Sweets said, indicating one of the last dates on Cora's list, an engagement that she wouldn't be able to keep. "It's one of the most popular bars in the city; they have big acts playing there on Friday nights. If Cora managed to get the chance to play there, that must mean that she had some talent after all." Sweets looked over at Booth who just rolled his eyes once more.

Smiling the same conspiratorial smile she had used in the diner that morning she and Booth had made their plans to open a cold-pizza restaurant, Brennan remarked, "Until I was thirteen, I wanted to be the next Cindy Lauper." Booth looked at her in surprise. "My mother told me that I sang better then she did." She seemed quite pleased with herself. Until something about the conversation struck her as familiar and her stomach filled with that familiar cold feeling of panic. She remembered telling Booth and Sweets about her brief dreams of being the next singing sensation, which had prompted Booth to arrange for her to sing at the Checker Box, where Pam had found them. Booth was smirking, about to say something but she interrupted. "But I know now that she was just being a mother and that I do not sing better or anywhere near as well as Cindy Lauper. I have absolutely no desire to sing on stage, in front of a crowd of people. _Ever_." She gave Booth a forceful look.

Brow knitting in confusion, Booth looked at her. "Okay, Bones…" He held up his hands defensively. "No one said anything about you singing on stage. But we got it: no singing career."

Feeling much better and in far more control of the situation then before, Brennan smiled to herself, enjoying the way that the tension and panic slipped from her body. Everything was going to be all right, she was finally starting to believe that. There was no Pam Nunan and the less time they spent at the Checker Box, the better. Soon they were going to discover what had happened to Cora and then she and Booth would move onto another case, putting memories of Pam Nunan far into the past. And there was her growing relationship with Booth, something she was all too eager to explore further, regardless of what her rational and scientific mind might be telling her. It was hard to argue with what her body and heart were telling her, impossible to ignore the fact that just being beside him right now was making her heart beat faster, making it harder to think rationally and scientifically. She found it quite difficult to focus when her mind and her heart were trying to tell her two different things; she wasn't entirely sure how the average woman dealt with these sensations on a daily basis.

Sweets was using the mouse to scroll down on the screen, studying the rest of Cora's Myspace. "Stop." Brennan commanded when he was no more then halfway through the page. "Look." She glanced at Booth. "That's the girl from the club, the one who said Cora couldn't sing on pitch." Sweets clicked on the icon Brennan had indicated, bringing up the Myspace page of Kellie Sprinkle.

Not surprisingly, Kellie's Myspace page was quite similar to Cora's, featuring a video of her singing an old Beatles song along with the accompanying piano. Brennan had to admit that the dark-haired singer had a smidgen more talent than their victim. "She's very good as well."

Booth patted her knee. "Thanks for the input, Paula." Brennan looked at him in confusion. "Look, she's also got a list of her shows."

Sweets raised an eyebrow. "She was booked to play at Bullfrogz the same night that Cora." But beneath the date and name of the venue was the word _canceled_.

Pursing his lips, Booth leaned away from the screen. "I think we might need to have another chat with Kellie Sprinkle."

* * *

The drive towards the restaurant where Kellie was a waitress most days of the week was taken in comfortable silence, though Booth took Brennan's hand, lacing their fingers together. It seemed almost natural, as though very little shifting had taken place to bring them to where they were now; though they were far from making declarations of undying love to one another, Booth was perfectly content with the way things were.

As they pulled into the steakhouse parking lot, handing the car off to the valet, Booth suggested, "How 'bout dinner at my place tonight, Bones. I'll cook my specialty."

Brennan looked at him doubtfully. "I didn't know you were a chef, Booth."

Shrugging with faux-modestly, Booth replied, "I've got a lot of skills you don't know about, Bones." She raised an eyebrow, smirking and he cleared his throat. "Well…dinner?" He held open the door of the restaurant for her.

Smiling, Brennan nodded. "All right." She agreed. "But maybe we should just order some Thai."

"Glad to see you have so much faith in me, Bones."

They reached the hostess stand and asked for Kellie; Booth flashed his badge when the hostess gave him a doubtful look and she quickly ran off to find the server. When Kellie emerged from the restaurant, she frowned, narrowing her eyes. "What do you want?" She crossed her arms over her chest, though Brennan noticed she looked slightly anxious in spite of her indifferent and slightly hostile exterior.

"Just wanted to ask you a few more questioned, Miss Sprinkle." Booth gestured for them to move to one of the empty tables. "I don't really feel like we got the chance to talk much the other day."

Sighing, Kellie shrugged. "I told you I don't know anything about how Cora died." She insisted. "All I know is that one day she was singing at the Checker Box and the next she was gone. We all thought she must have found another club to sing at."

Booth raised an eyebrow. "A club like Bullfrogz?" Kellie looked at him, her surprise evident in her face. "We saw her Myspace. Bullfrogz seems like a really good place to make your start, lots of people there watching, maybe even a few talent agents. Cora must have been very talented to get a show there."

"That was my show!" Kellie snapped and Booth and Brennan exchanged glances. "She stole it from me! She knew I was playing at Bullfrogz and went and talked the owner into giving her _my_ spot. Probably slept with him…I wouldn't put it past her." Kellie shook her head. "Cora played dirty, she was always after everything that _I _had."

Brennan looked at the young singer. "You sound very angry." Kellie gave her a deadpan, no-duh expression. "Sometimes we let our anger get the better of us…" She trailed off, looking over at Booth.

Understanding dawned on Kellie's face. "You think I…oh no." She shook her head quickly. "I didn't kill Cora, no way. What do you think I am, stupid?" She got no reply. "I wouldn't kill Cora just because she stole my show. They'll be other shows."

Pursing his lips, Booth nodded. "Fair enough, Miss Sprinkle. Just…don't leave town, all right? We might have some other questions for you."

"Don't bother. There's nothing else I have to say."

"That may be. But stick around, you know, just in case." Booth raised an eyebrow.

Brennan added in what she considered a helpful way, "It's not a suggestion." Kellie gave her another indifferent look.

Shaking his head, Booth stood, gesturing for Brennan to do the same. "Lets go Bones." They started for the door and Kellie was all too eager to vanish, getting as far away from them as possible.

As they waited for the valet to bring the car, Brennan questioned, "Do you think she did it?"

Booth shrugged. "Wouldn't put it past her. I don't really know what to think at this point, though. They all seem like they could have done it." With so little evidence, everyone seemed like a possible killer to Booth and it wasn't helping the situation that his mind was clouded with thoughts of the woman standing next to him. Brennan had a way to fill is mind like no one else and that only just became more apparent with each passing second, not that he was complaining.


	9. Tristan and Iseult

**AN: **Well, this goes without saying but, I'm back! Thanks for sticking with me during my vacation and for all the reviews I got to come home to. You guys are just amazing! I hope this chapter was worth the wait. So, keep up those reviews and I hope that everyone enjoys this chapter and I'll have another one up before too long. The title of this chapter comes from the song of the same name by Tarkio/The Decemberists (an amazing band) and you guys should really check it out because it's an amazing song. So anyway...enjoy!

**Tristan and Iseult**

If Brennan had thought that dressing for the previous night's date had been difficult, it was nothing compared to what she was feeling currently. She had thought that if things went well and _if_ she and Booth decided to pursue something based on how their first "date" went then she would become less and less anxious about how she looked and what she wore. But that didn't seem to be the case at the moment as she went through the same wardrobe she'd stressed over the night before, trying to find something that was casual but still sexy and appealing and would do for having dinner at her partner's house. It struck her as funny now that Booth, who saw her in her worst and never caused her to bat an eyelash, could now make her go through her empty closet, trying to find something that would hopefully help him remember that she wasn't just someone who crawled around muddy trenches for bones. It never entered her mind that Booth already saw her the way she suddenly desperately wanted him to.

She was trying to decide if she should wear a flowing white skirt over a pair of jeans when her cell phone buzzed on her dresser. She was a little behind schedule getting ready, so a part of her hoped it was Booth telling her not to bother hurrying; then she hoped it was Angela so her friend could offer over the phone wardrobe advice. But it was a number she didn't recognize. Identifying herself in as businesslike a manner as possible, Brennan answered.

"Dr. Brennan?" The voice was one she didn't instantly place either. "It's me." Brennan was silent. "Grayson. Grayson Smith." He sounded disappointed that she hadn't recognized him.

Instantly, Brennan felt like something was wrong. Or would be wrong soon. That nagging feeling was back again, like an alarm bell in the back of her mind. Unease. But she wasn't sure why. They'd all ready proven that Grayson Smith couldn't possibly be the one that had killed Cora, so why the alarm bells?

"Yes, Mr. Smith." Short, business-like, uninviting. "How did you get this number?" There went the pang of concern again, the inkling of fear.

There was a bit of laughter on the other end of the line. "Once I found out your name, Dr. Brennan, I just Googled you." Brennan frowned. It wasn't the first time the Internet had not been her friend.

Clearing her throat, Brennan looked over at the clock. "Mr. Smith, I would appreciate it if you didn't call me on my personal number again." Booth was never going to let her live it down if she was late.

There was another pause of silence, heavy and different than the first and, crazy as it was, Brennan could have sworn she felt a shift in the situation. "You told me…Dr. Brennan…you _said_ to call you if…if I knew anything about Cora." Grayson's tone had changed, dangerous somehow, but she couldn't help but feel like he was dangerous in the way a puppy might be: it could still bite, but mostly just rolled around. "You told me…to call you."

Pursing her lips, Brennan put down the jeans and changed into her white skirt. "Do you have information about the case, Mr. Smith?" She questioned in spite of herself. They were at a complete dead-end now, anything might help them.

"Yes." Grayson sounded much happier now. "Yes! Yes I do. I'd like to meet you so we could discuss it."

Another glance at the clock. Booth was waiting for her…the idea warmed her. Someone was waiting for her. "Tomorrow, Mr. Smith, you could come by the FBI building. Agent Booth would be happy to take your statement-"

"Not Agent Booth!" Grayson shouted and Brennan blinked at the phone in surprise. "I want to talk just to you, Dr. Brennan. Tonight. To you. Could you meet me somewhere? The diner?"

Of all the places in the city, Brennan found it slightly unnerving that Grayson choose the diner, her favorite place to eat and unwind. Coincidence, of course, but still unnerving. "Mr. Smith…I have plans. A prior engagement." That sounded a little more professional. "I believe tomorrow would be a better time…"

But Grayson was not interested in her excuses. "Dr. Brennan, please, it's important." His voice sounded heavy with sincerity and anxiety. "It will only take a second. You can get back to your…engagement." He sounded jealous, though Brennan found that to be an irrational emotion.

Brennan looked at the clock again, thought of Booth. She thought about why she shouldn't go to see Grayson Smith, why it would be wiser to wait until tomorrow to see him, when they weren't alone. Her safety wasn't the only reason she wanted to delay until tomorrow; she was hardly concerned about protecting herself from someone like him. But there was her date with Booth... "Tomorrow, Mr. Smith, I'm free to discuss whatever you'd like." Brennan dug around her jewelry box for the appropriate earrings.

There was another heavy silence. "Tonight, Dr. Brennan, would be best." His voice was filled with something Brennan couldn't quite place, an emotion she didn't quite recognize, like someone threatening to jump off the edge of a cliff. "I would prefer tonight. Fifteen minutes. I can be at the diner in fifteen minutes and then we can talk. Just talk." He sounded hopeful, pleading now, different than before.

Brennan put on her earrings and looked at herself in the mirror. She thought the final effect was exactly what she'd hoped for, but would it be enough for Booth? She still couldn't get over the idea of her caring what Booth thought about her appearance, couldn't get over the fact that she actually wanted him to have a reaction to the way that she looked. "Mr. Smith, I can talk to Agent Booth about meeting with you at the diner, you can tell us what you know about Cora-"

Once more, Brennan found herself rudely interrupted. "No! No. Dr. Brennan…I told you…only you. I only want to speak with you." Grayson insisted fervently. Brennan remained silent, caught off guard and completely unsure of what to say. "I promise it will be worth your while, Dr. Brennan. I can help you with your case."

Again, Brennan found herself looking at the clock. She should have been at Booth's by now, he would no doubt be calling her soon to make sure she hadn't bailed. What was a few extra minutes? "Fifteen minutes, Mr. Smith." She heard herself saying before she'd even fully made up her mind on what to do. If he had information on the case, it was in her best interest to hear what he had to say. Booth would understand. "I'll meet you at the diner."

Grayson was still enthusiastically thanking her when Brennan disconnected the call. She dialed Booth's number and he answered on the second ring. "Running a little late, Bones?" She could hear the smile in his voice. "Not like you."

Grabbing her car keys, Brennan headed out the door. "I'm leaving now." She felt an unfamiliar surge of anticipation, excitement at the idea of seeing Booth, at being alone with him in a non-work related environment. "I've got to meet someone first." Booth started to protest but she interrupted his alpha-male barrage. "Grayson Smith called: he wants to meet with me to discuss information about Cora's murder."

There was a heavy beat of silence on the other end of the line. "Absolutely not." Booth's voice was firm, the tone of a man used to telling people what to do and expecting that they do it. Instantly, Brennan felt irrationally irritated, annoyed with Booth and his attitude and pleased with herself for deciding to go meet Grayson Smith after all. "Are you crazy, Bones? You can't go by yourself."

Brennan tried to think about what Angela would say, that Booth was only looking out for her and her safety because he cared about her (now she had an inkling of proof that that was the case) and that she should just take everything in stride and be inwardly pleased that Booth cared. But that didn't help very much because Brennan was quickly discovering that nerves and romance induced butterflies did not mix well with having someone insinuate that she couldn't take care of herself. Even if that someone was Booth. "Booth, please, don't you think that's unnecessary? You know that I can take care of myself and _you_ even said there wasn't anything to worry about." She was on her way to the diner now, though she wouldn't have minded for Booth to talk her out of it. Even though she was more than equipped to take care of herself in most situations and felt very little threat from Grayson Smith, there was still a nagging feeling in the back of her mind, a buzz in the pit of her stomach that unsettled her.

"That's not the point, Bones." Booth was frustrated and Brennan knew it was because he knew that he wasn't going to be able to convince her not to go or do anything to stop her himself. She wondered if a little bit of it had to do with the fact that she was going to be a late for their dinner plans but figured that she'd save the girlish wonderings for later. "You don't know about this guy and you shouldn't go by yourself. And what could he possibly have to say about Cora that he didn't say before? I'll meet you there, just give me five minutes."

Again with the irritation. "Just because we're dating now, Booth, doesn't mean that you have the right to be my personal bodyguard and tell me what to do." Her words were greeted with silence and it never occurred to Brennan that Booth was focusing on anything more than her persnickety demeanor. "I can take care of myself. And I'll still be at your place for dinner, just a little later then planned."

Booth was still fumbling with an excuse, his frustration growing more apparent by the second when Brennan hung up, figuring that it would be better just to meet with Grayson and argue with Booth about it to his face. Angela had certainly been right about one thing: they had great chemistry, even if they didn't always use it for good. And it wasn't such a horrible thing to know that there was someone out there who cared about her well being, who cared enough about her to worry that she might be walking into a dangerous situation or to take a bullet for her. Brennan couldn't help but let her mind wander, though she quickly but a stop to it. She wasn't one to get ahead of herself in any situation.

Grayson was already at the diner when Brennan arrived and he jumped to his feet when he saw her, smiling like a smitten boy as he walked over to her and she instantly realized that she had made a mistake. Something about this wasn't right, she could see it in Grayson's eyes, could feel it in the back of her mind. She thought about what Sweets had said about Grayson's flimsy hold on reality and couldn't help but think of Pam Nunan…Sweets had said the same about her and look where that had gotten them.

"Thank you for meeting me, Dr. Brennan." Grayson was smiling broadly, gesturing for her to follow him back to his table. Brennan remained where she was and he took her hand to get her moving. Quickly, Brennan pulled her hand free and Grayson looked at her, confused and hurt. "What's wrong, Dr. Brennan?" His brow knitted briefly, then he laughed with a smile. "I think we're past the bashful stage."

Ignoring him, Brennan pursed her lips. "Mr. Smith, you said you wanted to talk to me about the case…about Cora…" She reminded. She was still standing and getting looks from the servers and other patrons, though she ignored them as well.

"Please, call me Grayson….Temperance." He smiled. "Doctor is such a formal title, don't you think." Brennan gave no reply, not that he seemed to notice. "Not that you don't deserve the praise. All your accomplishments…my parents can't believe I found a woman like you." He took a step toward her.

Brennan put up a hand to stop him from getting too close. "Mr. Smith, I find this situation very inappropriate. There is nothing going on between us. I only came because I thought there was something about the case, about Cora Corman's murderer that you wanted to discuss."

Frowning, Grayson pursed his lips. "It's because you're dating Agent Booth, isn't it?" He sounded betrayed and increasingly angry, getting more looks. "Because of Agent Booth, right? Does he know what a special woman you are?" He took another step forward.

"My personal life is hardly relevant and is none of your business." Brennan informed him sharply. "Don't contact me again, Mr. Smith." He frowned but she ignored him, turning toward the diner. She paused and turned again. "And don't come near Agent Booth." Briefly, she was surprised by how threatening those few words sounded but then she thought of Pam Nunan and couldn't bear to be the reason Booth was in danger yet again.

Before Grayson could get another word out, Brennan was out the door, not bothering to look behind her.

* * *

Booth was waiting for her when Brennan finally arrived at his apartment. Though he was trying hard to appear casual, she could tell that was exactly what he'd been doing: waiting. For a moment after he opened the door, they stared at one another, as though unsure of what to say or do, how to act. Booth normally wouldn't have hesitated in chewing her out for doing something stupid but now he couldn't seem to decide if his relief over her still being in one piece (not that he had ever truly doubted her safety or her ability to handle the situation) was more important than his frustration with her. And the fact that she was just staring at him with those eyes of hers wasn't helping matters either. Finally, Booth just shook his head, turning away from the door and heading into the kitchen so Brennan was no longer standing in the foyer.

Brennan shut the door but remained where she was, watching Booth as he moved needlessly around the kitchen, taking out bowls and plates and cups and moving them around for something to do. Finally he looked over at her and she saw the old Booth in his eyes, the one who could never seem to figure out just what to make of her, just what to do with her, frustration mingled with affection. "I wish you wouldn't do stupid stuff like that, Bones." He remarked with another shake of his head and a roll of his eyes.

"You never cared before." Brennan pointed out. Why did she always feel like she was hitting a wall, a wall that she'd put up all by herself? There were things she wanted to do, things she wanted to say and accept that she wouldn't let herself because of that wall standing in the way. Why would it be so hard just to tell Booth that he was right, that she shouldn't have gone to see Grayson Smith and to accept the fact that he cared about her, that it was all right to let someone care about her? Instead she was standing in his living room, getting ready to fight with him all over again.

"That's not true, Bones." Booth wished there wasn't so much space between them. "I've always cared." Brennan wished that she could take the plunge that Booth was, wished that she could let herself open up, to say and admit things like that but there was that wall in the way. "I just thought maybe…you'd listen this time."

Leaving her post in the living room, Brennan joined him in the kitchen. "It wasn't a dangerous situation, Booth." But why had she felt unnerved? "And he didn't have any information about Cora Corman's murder."

Booth looked at her triumphantly. "See, Sweets was right, that guy is unbalanced and fixated on you. You shouldn't have gone." He turned back toward the large amount of dishes he'd pulled out, trying to figure out which ones they actually needed. "You shouldn't see him again alone either." He braced himself for whatever argument that she was about to make. Booth figured he should have known better, he'd known Brennan long enough: she hated being told what to do, hated to feel like anyone was controlling what she did. She was almost like a child in that aspect and had been known to do something just because she had been advised against it.

"Fine." Booth looked at her in surprise and Brennan shrugged. "Clearly he has nothing useful or relevant to say, so the only logical thing to do would be to ignore him." Booth nodded and Brennan could tell that he was pleased. "Is there anything I can do to help with dinner?" She noticed for the first time that the kitchen was devoid of most food related smells.

"No, I've got everything taken care of." Booth held up a takeout bag from their favorite Thai restaurant. Brennan raised an eyebrow and couldn't help but smirk. "Turns out I can't cook after all." Booth smiled sheepishly and Brennan found that she couldn't ignore the way the gesture tugged at her. She kissed him, her hands on his shoulders, and it didn't take long for his hands to slip around her waist, pulling her just a bit closer. When they pulled away, Booth was still smiling but said nothing, though Brennan found that his eyes spoke volumes.

They carried the takeout to the table but decided to forego the plates in order to eat right out of the box, as they often did when they were kicking back in her office. For a few minutes, they ate in silence (Brennan had no idea how hungry she was) and Booth complimented her on her appearance (Brennan tried to disguise the blush in her cheeks) and then they lapsed back into a comfortable silence. Once again, it was Booth who spoke first. "So we're dating now." He questioned as casually as possible, thinking back to their phone conversation.

Looking over at him, Brennan shrugged. "Literally speaking, we _are_ dating, going out to dinner…" She gestured toward their takeout spread with her chopsticks. "Seeing each other outside of work." She looked at him closely. "Why? Lots of people date."

"I know lots of people date, Bones." Booth rolled his eyes. "I was just curious."

"Why does it matter?"

Booth was silent for a moment, as though unsure of how to answer her question. Though Brennan would never realize it, he, too, was reluctant to open himself up, emotionally to her, hesitant to make himself vulnerable. It came as a bit of surprise, considering the fact that he'd been more than infatuated with her from their first meeting and the more time he spent with her, the more he got to know her, he came to realize that he never really had a choice when it came to falling in love with her. It was impossible not to know Temperance Brennan, the woman she was underneath all her jaded exterior and scientific jargon and not fall for her. This was what he'd wanted, yet he still wasn't entirely sure what was happening, or how they'd gone from being partners to sitting in his kitchen making eyes at each other over Thai takeout. He'd seen Brennan in relationships before and though he was determined not to hold them against her, Booth couldn't help but wonder if theirs would just be a repeat of her prior flings: a few months of intense passion and emotion and then nothing, a clean and emotionless detachment from her and then what for him? Was it worth it to let himself go to that point, to allow himself to openly fall in love with her? His feelings for her all ready ran too deep, though he was hoping that he wasn't alone in his emotions. Booth wanted to believe that what they had was more then just a fling and sometimes he was certain when he looked at Brennan and found her looking back.

Clearing his throat, Booth shrugged. "Because…it means there's potential. It means…" Another shrug. "Something might happen."

Brennan laid her hand over his and felt her heart jump when he looked at her. This man was her partner, she could trust him with her life and she wanted to force herself to understand that she could trust him with her heart as well. "What sort of something?" She raised an eyebrow and smiled, a casual sort of gesture that seemed to suggest that they were just two friends, commenting on any number of possible futures.

"I don't know." Booth felt like he was lying. "Now. Right now is fine." It felt like another lie and he wasn't sure why. He kissed her softly on the forehead, the nose, before moving to her lips.

As Brennan looked at him, felt the affection in his gestures and saw it clearly in his eyes, she thought that this was a man she could quite possibly love, maybe even for the rest of her life. If she didn't all ready. And that thought scared her, made her think of all the times she'd tried to love someone and they'd vanished from her life with an abruptness that had caused her to build the wall in the first place. And she couldn't help but think of Booth, lying dead in the OR, a turn of events that was her fault and felt the familiar icy grip of panic overtake her. If he had been willing to take a bullet for her when they were just partners, what would he do now that they were something more? Brennan knew with a numbing certainty that she couldn't loose him again without completely losing herself too.

"Bones?" Booth looked at her, his brow knitted with concern once more. He gently lifted her chin so that their eyes met once more. "Are you all right? What's wrong?"

Brennan felt nothing but safety and security when she thought of Booth, when she locked eyes with his and she felt the icy pit in her stomach start to melt away. It hurt to admit that she needed him, more than she needed anyone else in her life but she could no longer deny that truth. She needed Booth, felt like they were too connected now and maybe they always had been, if she'd only let herself notice it before. She could spend her life thinking about things that might be, about what could happen; that was what she was good at, that was what she'd done all her life, preparing for a potential future, bracing for all possible outcomes. That was what she'd done before, thinking ahead to the consequences of a relationship that didn't work out and never allowing there to be one at all. And she was doing it now, preparing for the ramifications for their dangerous and life-threatening jobs, preparing to deny herself what made her happy now because of what might happen later. It was her defense mechanism, the way she lived her life. But what had it gotten her? It might not be easy, but Brennan knew that she needed to focus more on the here and now, to leave the analyzing and preparing out of her life and slowly, steadily, take down the wall that kept her from everyone else. And who better to help her with that task than Booth, the person who had saved her countless times in every possible way?

Smiling, Brennan rested her cheek against the palm of his hand. "I'm fine." She assured him. "Everything's fine."

She hoped that would be the truth.


	10. Set the Fire to the Third Bar

**AN**: A big thanks to all of those who are reviewing! It's so awesome! This story is winding down to it's close so I hope you guys continue to enjoy! I think this chapter might be a little cheesy but...that's good, right? Maybe? Anyway, keep up those awesome reviews, let me know what you think! And on a completely unrelated note: anyone happen to see _The Happening_ this weekend? It was fantastic! I might be the only one who thought so, but I found it to be a really great movie and I think everyone should see it. So...that's my plug of the chapter...anyway...enjoy!

**Set the Fire to the Third Bar**

Once more, Brennan found herself jarred awake by nightmarish images that refused to leave her mind even after her eyes had flown open. Breathing heavily, she quickly switched on her lamp but the light flooding every corner of her room did little to make her feel better or banish the thoughts that had woken her in the first place. She'd thought that the nightmares about Booth's death had gone when she'd finally gotten up the guts to ask Booth on a date and admit to her feelings but it seemed that was no longer the case. However, Brennan found that her mind was no longer plagued with the images of Booth being shot in the Checker Box or her facing a lifeless Booth on an operating table; in fact, Pam Nunan no longer made an appearance in her dreams at all. Instead, she found herself living through some sort of mental torture chamber, a slideshow of images and events that had never actually taken place but all featured Booth meeting his end before her eyes at the hands of some unknown evil doer. All because of their line of work. All because of her.

Brennan didn't realize that she was shaking until she went into her bathroom and turned on the faucet. She splashed her face with cold water and sighed heavily, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Staring back at her was a woman she almost didn't recognize, one she hadn't seen for years, not since she was a teenager suffering nightmares dealing with her parents' disappearance and her time in various foster homes. She felt almost like that teenager again, scared and uncertain, not knowing who would be there from one day to the other, the extremes of her greatest fears irrepressible in sleep.

Leaving the bathroom, Brennan returned to her bed but she didn't bother to switch off the light or try and fall back asleep. She locked at the clock to find that it was a little before five in the morning and she felt tempted to call Booth but resisted. She wouldn't be able to explain an early morning call again. With little other distraction, she found herself thinking about her nightmare, the images and the fear of being without Booth. There was no denying the fact that what they did was dangerous, that being an FBI agent earned Booth very few friends and being able to solve murders when the killers had little interest being brought to justice made her a target for mafia men, drug cartels and countless others who would have preferred their crimes to go unsolved. And even if some drug kingpin or Italian don wasn't taking shots at them, there were always the dangers of the other people they came into contact with, Pam Nunan being a perfect example. And as much as Brennan wanted to assure herself that everything was going to be all right between her and Booth, that she had finally found something and someone that would make her happy, that she could start to put her childish superstitions behind her, she knew that wasn't the case. Every day Booth left the house to go to work he put himself in the line of fire; that was only doubled when he was around her, seeing as she was a bit of a magnet for dangerous situations herself.

Even if there was no Pam Nunan, there would always be something. Someone that might step in at any moment and tear her life apart the way it had been destroyed the day her parents left, the night Booth had been killed and she'd get no second chance, no way to repair herself again. As she stared at nothing in her empty apartment, Brennan suddenly had the sinking feeling that she had been doing the right thing all along, that keeping herself separated from everyone, making sure that no one was in the position to hurt her again was the right idea. Booth all ready had more of a claim over her heart than she'd like, was all ready in the position to bring her world to an end, why did she need to make it worse by admitting that they were something more than partners and friends? Why open up her heart to him as well? Because certain things were inevitable and Brennan knew from experience that one of those inevitabilities happened to be the fact that people left. Ultimately, everyone would leave her, of that she was certain.

But Booth was…Booth. Brennan had always had faith that if anyone was to stick around in her life, it would be him. Yet, she also knew from experience that Booth didn't always have a choice in the way things played out. And there was no telling how long his interest in her would last; humans, by nature, are fickle and often grow tired of the same people and situations before too long. Why argue with inevitability? Why make it easier for Booth to hurt her when he did leave?

Brennan pulled her comforter higher up around her, the way she had often done as a child and tried to block out such thoughts, such ideas. But try as she might, she couldn't avoid certain things, certain images. She'd done what she'd wanted to do: she'd gotten rid of her regrets and told Booth how she felt and now she couldn't say that she didn't know what it was like to be with Booth, to have him kiss her and hold her and look at her like she was something more than she thought she was. And now, maybe it was time to go back to the way things were, with them as partners, sometimes friends and nothing more. It might hurt now but in the long run, things would hurt a lot less.

Coming up with a plan of action and resolving any personal or professional issues often left Brennan with a feeling of calm and inner serenity. Not this time. She only felt worse. She didn't realize that she was crying until she went to lay back down and her cheeks were damp against the fabric of her pillow.

* * *

In the morning, Brennan was, once again, at the Jeffersonian before anyone else she worked closely with. Unfortunately with the lag in any information from Cora's case, there was very little for her to occupy her mind with. She organized all the files she'd been dumping in unorganized piles for months, answered e-mails and requests from colleagues and other agencies requesting her professional input and even entertained the idea of going to Canada to help the law enforcement officials there deal with bones found in a pizza parlor. However, she had the feeling that fleeing to Canada to avoid Booth wasn't a smart or rational idea.

By the time Angela arrived, once again eager for updates on her friend's budding love life, Brennan considered herself to be the most organized person in the office. Without preamble, Angela entered the office, all ready smiling. "So, Sweetie, date last night at Booth's place: how'd it go? What'd he cook?" She raised an eyebrow, looking at Brennan expectantly.

"Nothing. Turns out he can't cook after all." Brennan replied, dead-pan and disinterested. She had the feeling that rehashing last night's evening with Booth, which had been one of the happiest nights in her recent memory was hardly the best way to start the day in which she planned on telling Booth that they should go back to just being partners.

Regarding her friend closely, Angela pursed her lips. "So…what're your plans for tonight?"

_You don't want to know_. "Nothing." Brennan kept her attention focused on her computer screen, where she was sorting her e-mail into folders and preparing a reply to the Canadian law officials.

"Okay, Sweetie, what's wrong?" Angela questioned, crossing her arms over her chest as she gave her friend a pointed stare. She could tell that Brennan wasn't just ignoring her because she was so intent on her work; her cagey attitude had everything to do with the fact that there was something she'd rather keep to herself. Brennan looked up and gave her a blank stare. "Did something happen with you and Booth last night? Yesterday you couldn't stop smiling. And now it's like…you're back to your old self."

Brow knitting, Brennan frowned. "Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

Holding up a hand, Angela clarified, "Not that I don't love the old you. The old you is my best friend. But I also _really_ like the new you. The happy and smiling you. The you that wasn't afraid to _be_ happy. What happened to her?" She raised an eyebrow.

Shrugging, Brennan leaned back in her chair. "Nothing. I have no idea what you're talking about." Angela didn't look like she bought it for a second. "I just…I don't think Booth and I will work out, that's all." She tried to sound causal about the whole situation.

Angela's eyes grew wide and she looked like she'd just been broken up with herself. "What?! Why not?" Brennan didn't reply. "How could you not want _Booth_? He's in love with you, Sweetie. Like crazy in love with you." This was not the sort of thing Brennan wanted to hear at the moment, whether it was true or not. "Why the second thoughts now, Brennan?" Her eyes were begging her friend to confide in her, mostly so she could talk Brennan out of whatever she was thinking.

But Brennan had no answer for her, at least no good one. "We're partners, Angela, dating would only complicate things. We're like…" What was it Booth always said? "Mulder and Scully."

Smirking, Angela pointed out, "Mulder and Scully ended up dating. I think they even had a kid together."

Frowning, Brennan pursed her lips. "Well…not Mulder and Scully then." What did she know anyway? "The point is…I just think that it would complicate things if we tried to have a romantic relationship. What if things didn't end well?" She raised an eyebrow, as though smug in her point.

However, Angela didn't buy it for a second. "It's you and it's Booth. Things are going to end well. If you let them."

Sighing, Brennan got to her feet. "I disagree." She passed Angela without another word as she hurried from her office, no longer interested in their conversation.

Knowing that trying to talk to Brennan now would be like trying to talk to a brick wall, Angela followed her silently. Before they had made it more than a few feet from the office door, they were intercepted by none other than a smiling Booth, bearing coffee and a bag of doughnuts. "Whoa," he quickly stepped out of the way to avoid sloshing coffee over both women, "where's the fire?" He grinned at Brennan and Angela could tell that he only had eyes for her.

Pursing her lips, Brennan looked at the FBI agent. "Fire? No fire." She looked over at Angela, who shrugged instead of pointing out that it was just a figure of speech. She was too interested in seeing how the budding couple reacted around one another, especially with Brennan's unexplained change in view. "What are you doing here, Booth?"

Clearly, things were not going to go well. Angela felt like she might be soon be watching a train-wreck in slow motion. Booth looked slightly hurt. "I thought…I'd come by, bring breakfast, go over the stuff for the Corman case." He held up the bag of doughnuts like a peace offering. But Brennan was only staring at him with the eyes of a perfect stranger.

"There's no more information to go over, Booth." Brennan informed him frankly. "There's no reason for you to waste your day here."

Booth's brow knitted and Angela couldn't help but think he looked like a puppy who'd just been kicked by a beloved master. "But, Bones-"

Averting her gaze, Brennan stared at her feet as he walked past Booth, heading to any other part of the lab that didn't include him. She exhaled slowly, keeping her eyes down, trying to remind herself of the resolve she'd had the night before. This was better for both of them, it would make things much less complicated, easier to deal with later, easier for her. Maybe running to Canada was a good idea after all.

When she had disappeared, Booth looked over at Angela, raising an eyebrow. "What did I do?" He questioned, trying to keep his voice light and casual, though he didn't feel either of those things. He felt like he had been right all along, that his concerns about getting into a relationship with Brennan, his worries about what would happen if he put if heart on the line, only to turn into yet another failed relationship, had been dead on. Even though Brennan's actions could be explained several different ways, Booth felt like he knew what was coming, that there was a certain inevitability to the whole thing.

"It's not you, Sweetie." Angela patted his shoulder sympathetically. "You know how Brennan is…she just gets twisted around in her own logic." Booth gave a faint nod but his attention had gone to looking back down the hallway like he was waiting for her to appear once more. "She thinks she's got everything figured out and that usually gets her into trouble."

Glancing back at Angela, Booth gave another nod. "You got that right." He scoffed. "I don't know anyone who gets into trouble like she does."

Angela couldn't help but smile, though she rolled her eyes to mask the fact that she found Booth's uncharacteristic shift from his cocky alpha male attitude to be endearing. She knew that Brennan's affections towards Booth were real and deep, just like they always had been and that by the time she let herself admit it once and for all, it would be too late. "Look, here's what I think, and you can take it or leave it," Angela could tell she had Booth's full attention even if he was trying to appear aloof, "Brennan's not good with commitment, the idea of being close to anyone freaks her out. I think that she's afraid to get closer to you as a sort of defensive mechanism, like she's trying to prepare for the day you leave her. Don't let her scare you off." Booth looked at her doubtfully and Angela shrugged with a smirk. "But, what do I know, right?" She raised an eyebrow.

Booth gave her the doughnuts and coffee. "I wouldn't quit your day job." He teased good-naturedly and Angela gave another eye roll. "Bones doesn't think about things like that." Though he had the feeling Angela was dead on in her assessment.

"Okay Booth. Good luck trying to figure out what _actually_ goes on in her head then." Angela headed off to Hodgins' office with her newly acquired breakfast.

Figuring out what went inside Temperance Brennan's head was not a task Booth felt like he would ever be up to. But he had the feeling not giving it a shot would be like giving up without a fight.

* * *

For the remainder of the day, Brennan managed to keep out of sight of anyone who happened to be looking for her. Deciding to leave Brennan to her own devices, Booth returned to his office to catch up on some of the paperwork he'd been neglecting but ended up thinking about Brennan and what Angela had said earlier that morning. Just because Brennan didn't put much stock in psychology didn't mean that she didn't operate under it. Booth was starting to think that Angela had a point after all: Brennan had been shaped into the woman she'd become later in life when her parents disappeared without a trace for fifteen years and she'd been forced into the foster system when her brother skipped out. Her entire life people hadn't made a habit of sticking around, leaving her high and dry and abandoned, whether it be her family or her lovers; the best protection was a good defense, he knew that better then anyone. But why would Brennan think he, of all people, would leave her in the end? Had he not proven to her time and again that they were together until the end, partners and maybe something more, if only things went his way. Or was she plagued by the same concerns that had kept Rebecca from getting too close to him: the worry that one day he just wouldn't come home, of no choice of his own.

Booth quickly discovered that working on his reports was a lost cause, so wrapped up in thoughts of Brennan that concentrating was impossible. But thinking about her and losing the woman he knew her to be, he one he was steadily falling in love with whether he liked it or not, was a great way to pass the time. When he eventually decided that he was going to confront Brennan with his (well, Angela's) suspicions and decide once and for all whether this relationship was something they both honestly wanted to try it was early evening and the office was slowly empting around him.

A glance out the window showed that the bright and sunny morning had given way to heavy rainfall and the occasional burst of thunder but Booth wasn't paying attention to the weather as he hurried out of the office, determined to catch Brennan before she left the Jeffersonian. By the time he arrived the storm was in full swing. The Jeffersonian was empty aside from Hodgins, who was working late on trying to squeeze more information out of the particulates found on and with Cora Corman, and Angela who was dutifully keeping him company. Neither had seen Brennan for the past hour, though Hodgins suggested she'd gone home because he'd seen her making a beeline for the doors with her keys in her hand.

So that was where Booth was headed, whether Brennan wanted him there or not. Even if she decided that entering the relationship was ultimately what she wanted, she'd have to do it to his face instead of trying to avoid him in hopes that he'd get the message. She always thought he was dense, why not put that opinion to good use. At the very least, they'd have a great deal to talk about at couple's therapy.

Parking was never pleasant and the rain just made it all the more difficult. Booth might as well have walked from his house to her apartment because his parking space wasn't much better. By the time he reached her door, he was soaked to the bone and dripping on the carpeted hallway. Brennan looked like she was planning on a night in with only the rain and Tibetan throat-singers for company; she'd shed her work clothes upon walking through her door and was wearing sweats and a tank top. She seemed slightly miffed to find Booth standing there. "What are you doing here?" Brennan questioned, though, try as she might, she couldn't force her voice into complete callousness. In truth, her heart had jumped when she'd opened the door to find Booth standing there; she'd secretly hoped it was him and it seemed like, for better or worse, someone had decided to listen to her silent plea.

"We need to talk."

"Booth-" Where was that resolve, that certainty that being alone was best, that it was better for her if she just kept everyone out. There was no conviction now, only longing, only a reluctance to hurt Booth, an inability to not have him in her life. That was the only certainty she felt now, the same type that she'd felt in the OR, holding his face in her hands, knowing that she could never be without him. She used to be a woman of conviction, of certainty, why was it now that she needed to be, it was deserting her. Or did she have the situation turned around?

"Do you mind if I come in first, Bones?" Booth raised an eyebrow. "I'm dripping in your hallway."

Brennan stepped aside and gestured for him to enter. When she looked at him she saw the expectation in his eyes, the belief that things were not going to end well and his preparation for such circumstances. It was the same looked she'd seen in Sully's eyes when he'd known that she wasn't going to leave with him. Why was it harder to see it on Booth's face then it had been with Sully? "Look, Booth, I really-"

But Booth interrupted. "Let me just say something, Bones." She fell silent, not seeing that she had any other choice. "I know that you're afraid," she started to protest, brow knitting, but he ignored her, "and I get that, all right, but I still think it's stupid." Brennan looked surprised. "I think that…I think we could work," there was a hopeful tone to his voice, like someone making a last ditch attempt to reason with a situation they felt was out of their control, "I really do. Because…I love you. There, I said it." Booth seemed as surprised as Brennan felt. "If nothing else, at least I said it, at least you know. No regrets, right? I love you. And I will never, _ever_ leave you, not like everyone else. Okay? Never. You're stuck with me, Bones, all right, whether you like it or not. So I think that-" But Booth never got the chance to finish.

Brennan grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and pulled them together, kissing him the way she'd always wanted to, with her whole heart. Booth blinked in surprise but that reaction didn't last long; he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer against him, holding her tightly, as though assuring her that he would make good on his promise. And Brennan found that believing those words wasn't so hard after all.


	11. That Famous Happy End

**AN**: Awesome, you guys are awesome, a million thanks. I can never thank you enough for your wonderful reviews. I'm so glad everyone is actually enjoying this story! And, I'm glad that so many of you went and saw _The Happening_, I knew I wasn't the only one who thought it was good (KristieM we should totally be movie buddies!), and I agree with everything that you guys said about the movie. A little slow, silly at points but I loved it; then again, I'm easy to please when it comes to movies. But this isn't a column about movies so...I hope you guys continue to enjoy what's left of the story, keep reviewing because I love to hear your input but most of all, enjoy!

**So Close to Reaching That Famous Happy End**

All Brennan knew was waking up alone. Since Sully had sailed away into the sunset all she'd had for morning company was her pillows and whatever dreams she'd had the night before. But now she was most definitely not alone, a fact that she was aware of before her mind had completely pulled itself from sleep. She could hear someone breathing slowly, steadily beside her, felt the heat and weight of an arm around her waist. It was a dream she'd often had, a private fantasy she never acknowledged when she was wake.

Yet Brennan was awake now and the sensations weren't going away. Slowly, she opened her eyes, taking in her surroundings. There was her coffee table, her couch, her selves full of books…all parts of her living room, which didn't make sense because she was always careful never to fall asleep on her couch, no matter how late she was working. But she wasn't exactly on the couch; she could feel the carpet beneath her skin as there was nothing between her skin and the fabric and, yep, there were her sweat pants, bunched in the corner and Brennan was sure if she looked hard enough she'd find the remainder of her clothes. And the clothes of the man still sleeping beside her.

Slowly, so as not to wake her snoozing companion, Brennan shifted beneath the thin fabric of the blanket that had been draped of them, turning to face the man sleeping beside her. There was a faint smile on Booth's lips, like he was dreaming of something particularly pleasant and he seemed oblivious to her stares. For a moment, that was all she could do, simply stare at him, take in his disheveled and handsome appearance, the face of the man she loved. And who loved her. Brennan could remember everything about last night so clearly and hoped that she always would: Booth coming to her house, saying the words she'd always wanted someone to say, swearing to always be there for her, with her and her believing them. After all, it was Booth, what more assurance did she need? And then one thing had led to another and here she was, not waking up alone.

Without trying Brennan could picture the way Booth had looked as he seemed to see her in a whole new light, the adoration, the unspoken belief that _he_ was the lucky one when, in fact, Brennan knew that she couldn't be more fortunate. And she had seen herself in his eyes too, saw herself and everything more clearly than ever before. She wanted to be the person that Booth saw her as, wanted to be trusting and open to things, however they might end. And with Booth, she felt like she might finally become that person. And after the night she'd shared with Booth, Brennan was a little confused as to why she'd waited so long in the first place; clearly Booth had earned his reputation as a ladies' man and Casanova. Angela would certainly love to hear that.

But all physical aspects aside, Brennan felt safe and protected there with Booth's arm around her, felt secure in the knowledge that this night, this morning, was the first of many.

"If I was staring at you like that, you'd probably punch me in the stomach." Booth's voice came as such a surprise to Brennan that she jumped, causing Booth to smile even wider as his eyes opened. Brennan frowned, her brow knitting but there was no real anger behind the gesture. "Good morning." Booth's hand slipped through her hair, curling around the back of her head and pulling her in for a kiss.

Once they had pulled away, Brennan smirked. "We couldn't even make it to the bed?" She observed with a raised eyebrow.

Booth matched her expression. "I didn't hear you complaining last night."

Brennan kissed him again, curling herself against his chest, her arm slipping around his shoulders. This was everything she thought she didn't want, didn't need and it was Booth, which only seemed to make things better. It seemed that there was a bit of a romantic in her after all. Everything was so perfect, she could stay like this forever, let the world go on without her…

From the counter, her phone rang. Brennan pulled away with an expression of mild annoyance on her face, her brow knitting as she glanced in the direction of the noise. She could see her phone, blinking and vibrating itself closer to the edge of the table. She made a move to sit, but Booth pulled her back against him. "Just let it ring." He murmured against her lips as he kissed her. "Just this once." Brennan felt herself melt against him once more, trying to ignore the phone.

It stopped for a second and than the noise started up again. Once more, Brennan pulled away, sitting up successfully. Booth sat up as well. "Let it ring." He suggested once more, raising an eyebrow. "We could make it to the bed this time."

Not a bad idea. "What if it's the lab?" Brennan raised an eyebrow. She'd never known Booth to shrink his duties but she was slightly flattered that she could be the cause.

"Calling to what? Tell us that there's still no information in Cora Corman's murder?" Booth questioned. The blanket was starting to slip off her shoulders, giving him a very inviting glimpse into what lay below and making ignoring the phone seem like a better idea with each passing second.

Once more, the phone fell silent. Brennan smiled and turned back to kiss Booth but her phone started again, joined by Booth's phone, muffled by the fabric of his pants pocket. Groaning, Brennan got to her feet, wrapping the blanket around herself as she walked over to the coffee table. "Thanks a lot Bones." Booth muttered, suddenly very aware of his lack of clothing. He grabbed his pants, yanking out his phone as he pulled them off. They answered simultaneously.

"Dr. Brennan, it's me. Zack." Brennan couldn't help but smile at the introduction of her one-time grad student. "We finally found a cause of death for our victim."

Instantly, Brennan felt her interest peak. "Finally. What's your conclusion, Zack?" She looked over at Booth, who rolled his eyes and gestured to his phone in an exasperated manner with his free hand.

"I believe the victim was killed by strangulation, but we still have yet to determine a murder weapon. Perhaps you could come in and give us your opinion." Zack suggested.

Though Brennan would have liked nothing more than to stay in all day with Booth, she knew that she couldn't just leave Cora Corman laying on that table, waiting for someone to figure out what her final moments had been like. "I'll be in shortly, Zack." They disconnected as Booth was hanging up on his caller.

Raising an eyebrow, Brennan gestured to the phone. "Who was it?" She couldn't hide her interest.

"Angela." Brennan raised an eyebrow. "When you didn't answer your phone, she called mine to see if I knew where you were. She's probably still gloating." Booth muttered, shaking his head. "Who was yours?"

"Zack. He's figured out how Cora died, but they still can't figure out a murder weapon. I told him I'd stop by to give him my opinion." Brennan set the phone down and started moving around the living room collecting her clothing.

Watching her, Booth smiled. "Want some company?" He offered.

Brennan raised an eyebrow. "I just assumed you were going to just tag along whether I liked it or not." She kissed him briefly as she moved toward her bedroom. "Give me twenty minutes, I'm hopping in the shower." She disappeared down the hallway.

Booth nodded, standing awkwardly in the living room for a moment before glancing toward the bedroom. "Want some company?" He offered again with a grin.

Brennan didn't reply, shutting the bedroom door, prompting Booth to head into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. He looked up when he heard the bedroom door open again and Brennan stepped out, still wrapped in the blanket. She looked like a child with a secret they weren't entirely sure they wanted to share. "Booth?" He looked at her expectantly. "I love you too."

Booth just smiled.

* * *

Booth had been dead-on in his prediction about Angela's reaction to finding out that the Jeffersonian's resident conductors of sexual tension had made up and were currently together; she hadn't stopped sharing a private smile with herself since getting off the phone with Booth, mentally patting herself on the back for finally doing her part in getting Brennan and Booth to realize that they couldn't keep ignoring the obvious. Her smile only grew wider when the partners arrived in the lab, Booth noticeably clad in yesterday's now wrinkled suit, his hand on the small of Brennan's back, the two of them looking quite comfortable with one another.

Angela raised an eyebrow as Brennan and Booth joined the rest of the Squints around the examining table where Cora's bones were still laid out. "Love the Walk of Shame look Booth." She remarked with a smirk, causing the FBI agent to shoot her a look. "Very becoming."

"Can we just," Booth gestured toward the table, "figure this thing out?" He glanced around at the Squints. "I feel like we've been working this case forever."

Pulling her hair back into a ponytail, Brennan rolled her eyes. "You have no idea." She joined Zack. "What did you find?"

Picking up a vertebra, Zack indicated with a gloved finger, "There's some slicing on the C-5 vertebra, like it was shaved. These markings usually indicate strangulation, but I have no idea what could have caused such a serration, like the bone itself was sliced." He handed the bone over to the resident forensic anthropologist.

Brennan studied the markings for a brief second before she felt that old metaphorical light-bulb go off. "A wire." She looked up, her eyes bright, a smile on her face. "It was her neighbor." She remembered the same marking on the bones of the male singer, the one with whom Pam Nunan had been obsessed with and how the bizarre pattern had been caused by the thin wire his neighbor had used to slit his throat. "She wasn't strangled, her throat was slit." Zack took the vertebra with an "of course" expression on his face.

Raising an eyebrow, Booth gave her a doubtful look. "The artist guy? The artist guy killed her?" Brennan nodded. "I think you should really stick to the science stuff, Bones, you're really no good at theorizing."

Shooting him a look, Brennan said, "Just here me out." She turned to Hodgins. "Find me a thin piece of rope or something roughly that shape and size." Within minutes, Hodgins had returned with a lengthy piece of rope, no doubt part of an experiment he and Zack had performed or had yet to think up. Brennan took the rope, wrapped it around her palms and gestured for Angela to come stand in front of her; the artist did so, with a slightly worried expression on her face. "Say Cora was out, taking out the trash or something late one night, neighbor comes up behind her…" Brennan demonstrated as she spoke. She was roughly the same height as Adam and only she seemed to be following her current train of thought. "Puts the wire around her neck," she did so to Angela, albeit more gently than the person who had attacked Cora, "and cuts her throat, shaves her C-5 vertebra, dumps her body in the woods."

Cam matched Booth's doubtful expression. "There weren't any signs that she fought back. If someone came up behind me in a dark alley, you better believe I'd be trying to kick his ass." She pointed out.

Brennan pursed her lips, thought, than brightened once more. "You found traces of THC in Cora's blood." Cam nodded a slow understanding. "Cora was stoned, she wouldn't have fought back because her reaction time would have been slowed." She turned to Angela once more. "Her neighbor comes up, goes to strangle her," she pulled the rope tight around Angela, "but before she does, she passes out, goes limp," Angela took her cue and fell forward slightly, "the wire slices her throat and that's how she dies." Brennan let the rope go slack, pulling it away from Angela.

Wrinkling her nose, Angela raised an eyebrow. "Okay, I don't ever want to be the murder victim again." She remarked, shaking her head as she went to stand between Hodgins and Zack once more.

Raising an eyebrow, Zack muttered, "Now you know how it feels."

"But why would her neighbor kill her?" Booth questioned, still not entirely sure he bought the whole thing. "And why would you even think of him?"

Brennan could hardly use déjà vu and a parallel case as an explanation. "He's an artist. And a sculptor. I saw a thin wire in his apartment, the type you use to cut clay." Booth raised an eyebrow. "Maybe he liked Cora too, maybe he was jealous." Brennan shrugged. "I don't know. I don't do why. You do why."

For a moment, Booth considered her explanation; her science certainly made sense, even if nothing else did. But she had conviction, a certainty that the scenario she was giving was the only probable one. "Okay, fine, let's go check this guy out." He relented, gesturing for Brennan to follow him down the stairs. "I hope you can convince the DA to hand over a warrant."

Brennan had the feeling the DA wouldn't believe in déjà vu either.

* * *

­Because of the significant lack of evidence pointing to Adam Matthews as Cora Corman's killer, it took well into the afternoon to convince the DA to issue the warrant. Booth had the feeling the DA finally gave them the paper to get Brennan to leave him alone, not that Booth could blame the man; Brennan was quite the nag when she wanted to be.

As they drove toward the unit that the victim and the suspect shared, Booth glanced over at his partner. "You really think he's the guy?" He questioned, his doubt still apparent.

"Yes, I do." Brennan said with conviction and when Booth asked her why she was so sure she replied, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"You could try me, Bones, you know." Booth pointed out. "I probably won't think you're _completely _crazy."

Before Brennan could assure him that he would, indeed, find her several different kinds of crazy, they had reached the building, pulling up along the curb. After several minutes of banging, Adam finally came to answer the door, his ear buds still half out of his ears; he looked surprised to see the FBI Agent and forensic anthropologist standing on his door step. "What's going on?" He pulled the earplugs out the rest of the way. "Did you find out what happened to Cora?"

Brennan raised an eyebrow. "You tell us."

Booth handed over the warrant. "Dr. Brennan's just going to poke around your place. You don't mind, do you Picasso?"

Blinking dumbly, Adam stood aside to let them in, staring at Brennan in surprise. "I don't understand. Search my place? Why?" Brennan ignored him, poking around his art supplies for the wire she'd seen on their first visit. "You think that _I_ hurt Cora? That _I _could have killed her?" He looked at Booth, who just shrugged noncommittally. "I would never do that. I'd never hurt a girl…she was tiny…what kind of man would I be?" He looked at Booth for some understanding.

Brennan located the wire, gingerly plucking it off the table littered with other craft supplies. Adam watched her closely. "What are you doing?" He seemed genuinely interested but she didn't bother to reply. Instead, she ran the length of the wire with a Q-Tip, then dropped the Q-Tip into a vial that contained a chemical that, when it reacted with blood, would turn blue. The three of them watched expectantly but there was nothing to see; Brennan pursed her lips and gave the vial a shake.

Clearing his throat, Booth raised an eyebrow. "What's supposed to happen?" He questioned, looking at Brennan.

Sighing, Brennan pocketed the vial. "Nothing." She looked at Booth. "He's not our guy."

Adam seemed relieved to have them out of his apartment, making it clear that there were no hard feelings. Back in the car, Brennan frowned, leaning back against her seat, dejected. "I don't understand. That's not how it worked before." She muttered.

Booth raised an eyebrow. "Before? Bones, you're not making any sense."

But she ignored him. "A thin wire…to slice the C-5 vertebra and cause the victim to bleed to death, yet leave only minute traces." Brennan shook her head, trying to organize her thoughts. "What could have caused that?" It was the same markings that had been on Tommy Sour's vertebra, so why hadn't the outcome been the same way. Then the preverbal light bulb. After several moments of silence, Brennan shouted, "That's it!" causing Booth to start, looking over at her with a hint of annoyance but mostly interest. "A guitar string." He didn't look convinced. "A guitar string would have been about the same size, the same shape, strong enough to slice through the neck and the vertebra." Booth still didn't look convinced. "And who do we know that plays guitar and has a grudge against Cora Corman?" She looked at Booth expectantly.

Slowly, Booth nodded. "Kellie Sprinkle." Brennan smiled. "You really think that Kellie Sprinkle used one of her guitar strings to kill Cora Corman?" Brennan made no reply but her expression suggested that was exactly what she thought. "She's tiny. Smaller than Cora."

"But Cora was stoned." Brennan pointed out. "Kellie could have easily surprised her…" They thought about to the scenario she'd suggested in the lab. "And she has motive…that club…Toad something…" Booth corrected her out of habit. "Right. With Cora out of the picture, the jig would have been hers."

Booth rolled his eyes. "The gig, Bones, the gig." She rolled her eyes. "I wonder how willing the DA will be to listen to us now." He leaned over and kissed her, catching Brennan by surprise.

Flushing, Brennan smiled but chided, "Booth! Keep your guys on the road," anyway.

Grinning that infamous boyish grin of his, Booth remarked, "Sorry, Bones, I couldn't help myself." He winked at her and Brennan gave another eye roll. "At least we'll have something to talk about at stake-outs now." He snuck in another kiss.

"That hardly seems like talking to me." Brennan pointed out.

Not that that was a bad thing.

* * *

The DA was more reluctant to hand over a warrant this go around but eventually signed the paper, relieved to get the anthropologist out of his hair once more. Night had fallen by the time Booth and Brennan reached the Checker Box, which seemed like a completely different place than when they'd last encountered it. Neon lights were blazing, hoping to attract passersby and the parking lot was full of cars; music could be heard from the street. It reminded Brennan of the night she'd gone to sing, the night Pam Nunan had missed her target and killed Booth. She gave an involuntary shudder.

Once more, Booth and Brennan went around the back of the club, figuring they'd have better luck running into the performers as they were getting ready to enter the club and take the stage. Mike Sanders, who was helping roll an amp into the club quickly directed them to Kellie Sprinkle, who was perched on the trunk of her car, tuning her guitar and humming to herself. Mike's eyes never left the pair as they approached the car, his heart thumping, determined to finally know what fate had befallen his girlfriend.

Kellie glared daggers when she saw Booth and Brennan approaching. "What do you want now?" She hopped down off the trunk, leaning against her car. "Don't you people ever give up?" She narrowed her eyes at Booth. "I could probably get you arrested for harassment or something."

"Not if I arrest you first." Booth couldn't keep the taunting tone out of his voice. Kellie's eyes grew wide briefly before she narrowed them again, the Hell-freeze-over glare returning. "We've got a warrant to search your stuff, Ms. Sprinkle." He handed over the paper.

Kellie didn't even bother to look at it. "Search my stuff? Why?" She looked over at Brennan, who was peering through the windows of the car. "Why do you want to look at my stuff?"

Carefully, Brennan fingered the strings of the guitar, noting how they fit into her scenario of the murder. She looked at Kellie. "Will you pop your trunk?"

"No." Kellie snapped, crossing her arms over her chest in a posture of defiance.

Clearing his throat, Booth gave her a pointed look. "It wasn't a request. See this?" He tapped the paper in her hands. "It says you have to do whatever _we_ say. So…pop the trunk."

Cursing them, Kellie did as she was told, hanging by the driver's side door. Brennan opened the trunk and withdrew her pocket light that illuminated traces of blood. She noticed the pile of guitar strings that lay in the far corner of the truck and she pulled them out as she hit the trunk with the light. The entire area lit up with blue splotches and Booth whistled. "This must be where she put the body before she could dump it." She remarked, almost to herself. She trained the light on the guitar string. It, too, flashed blue. "Murder weapon." She sounded pleased with herself.

Pulling out his handcuffs, Booth turned toward the driver's door. "Kellie Sprinkle, you're under arrest for the murder of-" But Kellie wasn't interested in hearing the rest. She took off running through the parking lot, catching the attention of her fellow performers.

Before Booth and Brennan could even begin to give chase she was grabbed from behind by Mike Sanders, who spun her around to face him. "How could you?!" He seemed torn between anger and heartbreak. "Cora was your friend! How could you do that to her?!" His eyes filled with tears.

Booth joined them, snapping the cuffs around Kellie's wrists. "I didn't mean to." She, too, had started to cry, looking at Mike and Booth pleadingly. "It was an accident. I just…I wanted to scare her…to let her know that she couldn't steal my shows…I never meant to kill her. She just…fell…" She dissolved into tears.

As they led Kellie to the car to radio for backup, Booth and Brennan exchanged a glance. Another case solved, another set of lives changed forever.

* * *

With the backup came all the usual suspects: on-lookers, reporters, everyone trying to gain a unique story to share with the outside world. Brennan was used to the flashing lights, the shouted questions, the interested looks from passersby who never thought to commit crimes. What she was not used to was Grayson Smith, waiting eagerly on the sidelines, pushing against the crowd that jostled him at the edge of the police barricade.

When he spotted her, Grayson ducked under the barricade before anyone could notice his intentions, hurrying in her direction. "Dr. Brennan! Dr. Brennan! Temperance!" Confused, she turned toward the sound of her name. Grayson smiled when he reached her, out of breath but not seeming to mind. "Did you find the person that killed Cora? I knew you would, you're such a smart, talented woman." He reached for her hand but she stepped away.

Before Brennan could say anything, Booth was at her side. "Whoa, whoa, you can't be back here." His eyes narrowed when he recognized just whom he was speaking to. "Look, Mr. Smith, you need to leave, right now. I think Dr. Brennan made it perfectly clear that she wasn't interested-"

Grayson poked a finger into Booth's chest. "Why don't you say out of this, _cop_." He narrowed his eyes as well. "You don't know Temperance like I do." Brennan scoffed. "I think _you_," another finger jab, "should leave _us_ alone." He made another grab for her arm.

"Mr. Smith," Brennan pulled her arm away, "there is _nothing_ going on between us-"

This time, Grayson grabbed her arm, jerking her forward toward him, catching her by surprise so that she nearly lost her footing. Before Brennan could even pull her arm free, Booth was in between them, shoving Grayson roughly away from her. "Look, buddy, I'm not going to tell you again." He gave the younger man another rough shove. "Touch her again, you answer to me, all right?" Their confrontation had earned the attention of the on-lookers and fellow officers. "So just back up." He gave another push to accent his words.

Grayson glared at Booth, but looked more like a kid who had been chided by a favorite adult. He looked over at Brennan, who was watching surprise, before glancing back at Booth. "You'll see." He sniffed, backing away from the agent. "She doesn't need you." He turned and disappeared quickly into the crowd, a dog with its tail between its legs.

Booth returned to Brennan, shaking his head. "That's guy's a total whack-job." He remarked.

"Was that really necessary?" Brennan raised an eyebrow. She hated it when people, especially men, thought it their place to interfere in her affairs but she had to admit, it wasn't so bad having Booth come in playing knight-in-shining-armor.

Giving her a crooked smile, Booth shrugged. "Just wanted to make sure he got the picture. Nobody messes with my girl." He threw his arm around her shoulders in an exaggerated expression of buddy-buddy affection.

Brennan rolled her eyes but let his arm stay where it was.

**PS**...Chapter title comes from the song "So Close" from the movie _Enchanted_. It's one of my favorite movies ever (say what you will but I think it is absolutely the cutest thing ever!) so if you haven't seen it, go rent it right now. Like get in your car and go. Just had to throw that in there :)


	12. With Every Mistake

**AN: **I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this story. I hope you continue to do so! Thanks for the reviews! A few of your comments made me laugh (MadeofStars, I absolutely LOVED the "sluttin' around" comment, I feel like I need to use it in every day speech now!) and I'm glad I could distract a few of you from schoolwork (procrastination: always a plus) and thanks for the pointers on grammar, I could always use those! And, yay for all those fellow _Enchanted _fans out there! No need to be ashamed, we can all band together around the movie's sickening cuteness! So...review and above all, enjoy this new chapter!

**With Every Mistake We Must Surely Be Learning **

That night, Brennan did not go home alone. She and Booth even made it to the bed eventually. The morning light streaming through her bedroom window woke Brennan, though she did nothing more than open her eyes, simply savoring the sensation of feeling Booth curled beside her, his arms around securely around her waist, keeping them tied together. She figured she was going to eventually become spoiled; it would be hard not to wake up like this every morning.

Brennan chanced a glance over at Booth, not wanting to be caught staring all over again. But Booth appeared to be sleeping peacefully, that smile still turning up the corners of his lips, his face serene and simple. Now, in the safety of her bed, wrapped up in Booth, it was difficult to remember that other, parallel life, the one that hadn't had a happy ending. Pam Nunan, the evening at the Checker Box, her anguish over loosing Booth, it all seemed a million miles away and, for the first time, like memories of someone else's life. Brennan couldn't help but smile herself; she knew she'd never be able to understand what had happened that night, how she had ended up where she was now, but she was certainly glad that someone had hit that big Cosmic-rewind button.

Booth stirred slightly and Brennan quickly dropped her head back on the pillow, shutting her eyes and trying to look like she, too, was still sleeping soundly. "You're a horrible actress." Booth remarked and Brennan opened her eyes to see him smiling at her. "It's a good thing you decided not to go to Hollywood." But Booth had to admit that he didn't mind her staring so much; after all, he'd done his fair share after Brennan had fallen asleep, he was just better about not being caught.

Deciding not to give into his teasing, Brennan snuggled closer and kissed him, smiling against his lips. "Now that we solved the case," Booth said in between kisses, "we don't have to go to the lab. We could just stay in here," another kiss, "all day."

"No, we told everyone we'd meet them at the diner for lunch." Brennan reminded with a raised eyebrow. "Remember? To celebrate solving the case." It had been Booth's idea, though he regretted it now, an attempt to include the Squints in their usual celebratory trip to the diner.

Wrinkling his nose, Booth sighed, rolling onto his back. "Great." He shook his head. Staying in bed with the woman he loved or going to have the world's most complicated lunch with a group of people who's average conversations sounded like a round of _Jeopardy_. Wasn't much of a toss-up as far as he was concerned. "I guess we'd better go get ready then." But he didn't sound thrilled.

Smiling, Brennan rolled on top of him, kissing him. "We might be a little late."

* * *

By the time Brennan and Booth made it to the diner, the rest of their team had all ready gathered in one of the biggest booths the place offered. Angela, Cam and Hodgins were all laughing at something while Zack just blinked at them, no doubt trying to catch up on the joke, frowning in concentration. When Angela spotted her friend, she smiled and waved them over, catching Brennan's eye and winking. Brennan ignored her but she couldn't keep the smile off her own face, couldn't stop her eyes from sparkling and giving her away. Brennan took a seat beside her friend while Booth sat across from her; their eyes, too, met for the briefest of seconds but in that moment Brennan could see the happiness in Booth's eyes, the love and desire for her alone and it filled her with a sensation she'd never felt before, a self-crushing love for someone else that made her feel like she was drowning and soaring at the same time. Brennan felt that she could lose herself completely just staring into his eyes and, if she allowed herself to hope, Booth seemed to find her just as intoxicating.

"Oh. I get it." Zack's voice broke Brennan's revere and she looked over at the young doctor, who was nodding, pleased with himself. "It was the pig." That just sent Angela and Hodgins into another fit of giggles, while Cam gave Zack a sympathetic pat on the hand.

Booth raised an eyebrow. "Do I even want to know?" Hodgins shook his head and that was good enough for Booth.

The waitress came to take their orders and there was a bit of confusion around the table, as there often is when a large group of people go out to eat, as everyone tried to order; Angela thought that everyone's order sounded good and changed her own several times until the waitress walked away with a smile and a shake of her head at Hodgins' direction, leaving Angela stuck with her original order.

As they snacked on the rolls the waitress brought out once she was sure that she wouldn't be bombarded with any more orders, Angela looked over at Booth, "So it was the crazy jealous singer after all." She shook her head. She'd never understand what drove mankind to kill one another, especially over things like the length of supermarket lines or shows at a nightclub.

Before Booth could reply, Cam cut in. "You know, I'm still curious how you knew it was her, Dr. Brennan." All eyes shifted to the forensic anthropologist. "And what the murder weapon was."

It was a question Brennan couldn't rightly answer. "Well, Zack found the shaving of the C-5 vertebra-"

"But of all the things that could cause that." Cam pointed out. "And all the people…" She still looked doubtful.

Brennan just shrugged. "Intuition." She muttered noncommittally.

"You don't do intuition, Dr. Brennan." Zack pointed out. "You do facts. Not even I had enough facts to make that conclusion."

Rolling her eyes, Brennan scoffed. "It's a crazy story, you wouldn't believe me if I told you." She assured them.

Booth leaned back against his seat. "C'mon, try us, Bones." He raised an eyebrow, gesturing for her to give them the story. "It might not be so crazy after all."

Before Brennan could assure him that it was, in fact, as crazy as they could believe, the waitress arrived with their food, dividing the plates among the Squints and their real-world liaison. Angela started attempting to surreptitiously snatch food off her team-members plates, adding it to her own.

The bell above the diner door _dinged_.

When Angela reached for a handful of Booth's fries, he swatted her hand away. "You're the one who went with the salad." He pointed out, pointing at her with his fork. "Keep your hands to yourself." Brennan grabbed a few fries from his plate and passed them to Angela, causing Booth to roll his eyes and shoot her an exasperated look.

As Brennan reached for the catsup, she heard someone shout her name. She looked up, brow knitting in confusion, trying to find the caller. "Dr. Brennan! Temperance!" Her eyes settled on Grayson Smith, standing by the entrance of the diner. Instantly, she felt herself go cold; this wasn't right.

When he spotted her, Grayson started towards their booth, smiling widely. "Dr. Brennan!" Not knowing what drove her actions, Brennan got to her feet, getting the attention of her table-mates. Booth went tense when he saw Grayson approaching.

Grayson was reaching for something, proud of himself; Brennan knew what it was even before he pulled it out, knew because she'd been here before, she'd all ready lived this whole thing in another life, another universe but she felt like she was moving far too slow to do anything about it.

Just as Brennan had known he would, Grayson withdrew a gun from his coat pocket, still grinning like a child who knew he deserved praise, oblivious to the other people around him. At the sight of the gun, the other patrons of the diner started screaming and ducking in their seats and their waitress shouted for someone in the kitchen to call the police. "It's for you, Temperance!" Grayson shouted, still grinning that insane grin. "For us!" He pointed the gun in her direction.

Booth was on his feet, reaching for his own gun, stepping in front of her. Protecting her, as always. Brennan wanted to shout for him to sit back down, to get out of the way; didn't he understand? This wasn't about her, it was about him. Grayson wasn't interested in her. But she couldn't even shout his name.

Booth pulled out his gun just as Grayson shot. The noise echoed throughout the diner, mingling with the screams of the customers and Brennan shouted a single word, or thought she did, she was hardly aware of much, "No!"

With a grunt, Booth stumbled backward, his gun clattering to the floor, his face screwed up in a mask of pain and surprise. Brennan had her arms around him before he fell completely, kneeling beside him on the floor, trying to figure out what to do, trying to think but there was just so much noise and so much blood and she couldn't hear anything past her heart hammering in her ears. "No! No. Booth!" She pressed her hands over the blood on his chest, there was just _too much_, unsure of where the wound was. Her hands were shaking, her vision was blurry and Booth hadn't said anything, just lay there, a groan escaping his lips every so often. "No. No." It seemed to be the only thing she could say.

"I told you!" Grayson was yelling victoriously, grinning madly, his eyes on Brennan. "You don't need him."

At the sound of his voice, Brennan looked up and her breath caught in her throat. She couldn't think straight, couldn't think past Booth, his blood on her hands, Pam Nunan standing in the club surprised at the turn of events, Grayson saying her name over and over again, expecting praise and congratulations, Booth lying dead in the OR, Booth lying in bed beside her this morning, his smile, his still face in the OR, him lying beside her now, bleeding and struggling for breath. She picked up Booth's gun, aimed it at Grayson and pulled the trigger once, twice, her vision blurred by the tears running down her cheeks. "No! Not again!" She wasn't sure if she yelled it out loud or just thought it, wasn't sure of anything. Grayson fell, his face frozen in surprise. Brennan dropped the gun, turned back to Booth. His eyes were open now, searching blindly for something, like a person trying to place their whereabouts; his breathing was short and labored, his mouth moving soundlessly.

Once more, Brennan pressed her hands over the wound in his chest, her hands and shirt all ready sticky with his blood. Again. And there was nothing she could do. Again. "Booth!" His eyes fell on her face, her features contorted with an expression of agony and helplessness. "Booth. No. Just…" She looked down at her hands, looked back at his face. She wasn't trying to stop the tears from running down her face. "Don't do this. Don't leave me." She leaned forward, kissing his cheeks, pressing her face against the side of his neck. It was all too familiar. "Don't leave me. Please. I need you." She could feel his chest rising and falling raggedly beneath her hands. "You're going to be all right, Booth. Just hold on."

In the booth, Angela eyes filled with tears as she watched her friend hold onto the man she loved, as though she could keep him there herself, keep them together. The rest of the scene seemed to fade into the background, she didn't seem to hear Hodgins on his phone, nearly yelling at the 911 operator on the other end to hurry up, that it was an _emergency goddamnit! _and Cam, who had left the booth, trying to make herself useful by telling everyone in the diner to calm down, stay back, leave them alone, in so many words. And Zack, who was still sitting against the wall, muttering to himself, no doubt making sense of the scene in scientific terms. But all Angela saw, all she knew, was Brennan with her arms around Booth, like it was only the two of them and no one else.

Groaning, Booth sighed heavily, trying to keep Brennan in his line of vision. He felt like everything was slipping out of focus around him, like a radio being lost to static, the voices of those around him turning into a blur, mixing together, sounding like they were coming in from the other end of a tunnel. He could see her face, her expression one of anguish, her eyes full of tears as she cried for him, her voice begging him to stay with her and that sounded like a good idea to him. But even Brennan was starting to slip out of focus, her voice softer, less distinguishable but he could still feel her arms around him, her damp cheeks against his skin, her lips as she kissed him feverishly, desperately. "Bones…" He could barely hear himself.

Brennan looked up at him, their eyes met. She saw him whisper her name again and she kissed his lips gently, taking his face in her hands. "You're going to be all right." His eyes closed briefly, strained to open again. "Okay? Booth!" His eyes closed again. She leaned down, their foreheads touching, his skin clammy beneath her own. "I love you."

Her words were lost in the arrival of the EMT's, struggling to make their way through the tight space between the counter and the booths. "You're going to have to step back, miss." One of the EMT's said as he knelt beside Booth, feeling his pulse, checking his vitals. Brennan remained where she was, knelt beside her partner, but now her hand on his shoulder was the only physical contact between them.

Around her, the EMT's worked, shouted medical lingo and abbreviations at one another and none of it sounded good to Brennan. They got Booth on the stretcher, started to wheel him out of the hospital without a backwards glance in her direction. She stood, started toward them, her hand hanging in the empty space where Booth had once been but Angela was at her side, taking her other hand. "It's okay Sweetie." But Brennan could see that Angela had tears in her eyes as well, was fighting not to cry. She pulled her friend into a hug, smoothing down her hair in what she hoped was a soothing manner. "He's going to be all right."

Brennan just wrapped her arms around her friend and cried into her shoulder, feeling like her heart was shattering into a thousand pieces inside her chest, knowing that only one thing could repair her again.

They stayed like that until they got the okay from the police on the scene, studying Grayson Smith's body, to go ahead to the hospital, they'd have more questions for them later, they would meet them there after they were done at the diner. The car ride to the hospital was much like it had been the first time, with Brennan riding with Angela's arms around her and the rest of them silent; a heavy sense of foreboding hung in the car but Brennan tried to ignore it. She tried not to think about the way their previous trip to the hospital had ended, tried not to think of the fact that she wouldn't be getting another second chance.

When they arrived, there was nothing to do but sit in the waiting room. There was no information on Booth, just forceful looks from the nurses as they were instructed to take a seat, to wait patiently. Brennan was never a patient person and this was hardly a situation that required idleness. But there was no other choice, she sat beside Angela, staring down at her hands, sticky and red and shaking, like the rest of her body. She must have still been crying because Angela offered her a tissue, taking Brennan's hand in spite of the blood, giving it a squeeze. "Everything will be all right." But she didn't sound very certain herself, her voice was shaking as much as Brennan herself. "It's Booth. He's tough."

Brennan shook her head; it was far too easy to picture their first hospital visit. "No…this can't be happening again." She closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head. Maybe this was just another nightmare, another dream of another life. "I can't lose him again."

Angela's brow knitted. "Again? Sweetie, what are you talking about?" She tried to make sense of what Brennan was saying, but wasn't entirely surprised when she couldn't; her friend was hardly thinking like herself at the moment, things that made sense in her mind could mean little to those around her. Yet, it wasn't the first time she'd used the word "again" in the past half-hour…not to mention her prevalent nightmares, her familiarity with the Cora Corman case…now Angela felt like _she_ was the one who wasn't making any sense. "Brennan?"

Sighing, Brennan shook her head once more. "I can't…I…" She got to her feet. "I'm going to wash my hands." She muttered, desperate for something to do. She knew there was nothing she could do except wait, wait for the doctor to come into the waiting room, to tell her that there was nothing anyone could do, so sorry…

Brennan looked up, scanning the hallway for a bathroom. Her eyes settled on a familiar figure standing off to one side of the hallway, his attention on the medical chart in his hands. Her breath froze in her throat as she stopped dead in her tracks. She wasn't aware she was breathing again until she heard herself whisper, "You."

The man looked over at her, his eyes reflecting the same unnerving quality she had noticed on their first meeting, and he smiled that oily grin that had given her the shivers last time. Brennan felt repulsion surge to the surface, anger; she stalked over to the man. "I had a second chance." She felt her voice rising with every word. "You gave me a second chance!"

"And you used it. You got rid of your regrets." The man smiled at her. "You know now what it was like to be with Agent Booth."

"No. _No_. That's not how it works." Brennan grabbed a fistful of the man's shirt, pulling them closer together. "You can't take him from me now!"

The man only shrugged. "I'm sorry, Dr. Brennan. You used your second chance the way you were supposed to. No more regrets. Remember?"

Brennan shoved him into the wall behind him. "No! That's not good enough!" They were attracting attention from the orderlies around her. "I need him!" She gave the man another shake when he didn't seem to be listening to her, wasn't saying what she wanted to hear. "How is this better?!" She had started to cry again. There was an orderly at her side, trying to talk her into letting the man go, into calming down and backing up. She ignored him. "I can't lose him again, don't you understand!" There were more voices now as other joined in, but all Brennan saw was the man in front of her and his inability to give her what she needed so badly. Her hands tightened around the cloth of his shirt until her knuckles were white.

"Dr. Brennan. Dr. Brennan!" It was voice she recognized this time but she still ignored him.

"Listen to me." Brennan gave the man another shake and he only smiled. "Goddamnit!"

Brennan felt arms around her waist, pulling her away from the man. It was Hodgins, trying to get her to loosen her hold on the man in front of her, trying to put some distance between them. "How is this better?!" She shouted at the man again, letting go of him and letting her arms fall uselessly. "This is worse." She hung her head as well. "This is so much worse." She felt useless, helpless and fully aware of the severity of her feelings for Booth.

Hodgins made nonsensical soothing sounds as he led her back to the waiting room, depositing her back into her seat beside Angela. Her friend tried to speak to her, to understand what had just happened but Brennan just stared down at her feet, ignoring the artist. She couldn't understand now how her second chance was supposed to make things better; true, she was in love with Booth, perhaps she always had been, but before it was something she could easily keep to herself, something she could have talked herself out of the first time, consigned her emotions over his death to the feeling of losing a partner and thinking no more about it. But now there was no more hiding, no way to ignore the way she felt about Booth; she knew how it felt to have him look at her like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever set eyes on, to whisper "I love you" when he thought she was sleeping, as though a breathless whisper was all he could manager, knew what it felt like to wake up beside him. And she knew what it was like to truly love someone, to admit that she needed someone other than herself, to be all right with depending on another person. She had given Booth her heart with no (well, maybe a little) hesitation, had entrusted herself to someone else, had admitted to a love that had made everything so much more beautiful, so wonderful. And now it was all for nothing. Brennan had nothing but shards of the heart that had been so full before. Because of him. She almost wished she had never known what it was like.

Brennan didn't lift her head again until the doctor, the same bespectacled man who had delivered the news the first time, entered the waiting room; he looked as weary and worn as before. Brennan was on her feet, heading over to him before he could even finish speaking Booth's name. He looked surprised to see her so quickly. "Are you with Seeley Booth."

Slowly, Brennan nodded. She felt numb inside, completely empty. Nothing could touch her now, nothing could hurt her. She'd left her heart behind with Booth on the floor of the diner. Now she just had to go through the motions, do what needed to be done and never think back on this life again. She had given her heart to Booth and he had taken it with him. But she didn't need it anymore anyway. She could get used to the cold, empty feeling that currently had in her chest. "I'm his partner." Her voice was low, even. Bracing for bad news. For the inevitable.

Clearing his throat, the doctor sighed. "Miss…" She corrected him again, like she had the first time, like her title was all that was left of her. "Agent Booth sustained a great deal of damage from the bullet…" _No, she couldn't hear this_. "He lost a lot of blood…" _Not again, not her Booth, not again_. "He-"

Brennan didn't give him the chance to finish. Couldn't handle to hear the words again. It seemed that there was still something more to feel after all. Whirling away from the doctor, Brennan went running down the hallway in the same direction she had gone in another life, running towards the OR where she knew Booth would be. He was the only person she wanted, the only person she could be with and she needed him, needed him to fill the emptiness in her chest. Where he should be.

And so Brennan ran, ignoring the doctor as he called after her.


	13. The Way Things Are

**AN**: So, sadly, the time as come: the final chapter. Let me just say thank you so much for all the reviews and the feedback; I never imagined people who enjoy this story as much as you seem to and I'm glad that you did. So, thanks again to everyone who read and reviewed! I hope to write another _Bones_ fic in the future, so we'll see. But thank you again for all your awesome feedback and please enjoy!

**The Way Things Are **

Inside the OR there was a nurse, the same nurse that had fled from Brennan and her grief in that other life. She looked up in surprise now when Brennan pushed open the OR door and stepped inside; the anthropologist seemed not to notice the nurse, allowing the woman to slip out of the room, intent on finding a doctor. But Brennan didn't even notice her departure, her eyes had fallen on Booth, resting on the OR table, his face blank and still. There was a sheet pulled up to his shoulders, she could see amidst the splattering of blood the place where Grayson had shot her partner, the man she loved and where the doctors had closed the wound in an attempt to save his life. He was still connected to the machines around by a tangling of wires, and IV drip and a blood transfusion needled into either arm, all things the nurse was undoubtedly about to remove before Brennan stepped in to interrupt the process.

For a moment, Brennan only stood where she was, unsure of whether she would be able to take another step forward. She felt like she was going to be sick, felt like she couldn't do anything but fold onto the floor and cry until someone came to take her away, felt angry enough to turn everything in the room into her personal and destructive outlet for her anger. But all she could do was stand there and stare at Booth, immobile. Booth needed her now, for one last time and Brennan went, slowly, steadily, to him.

Once again, tears blurred her vision as she stared at Booth, willing him to open his eyes, to fix her with that annoyingly charming smile and make everything all right again. Brennan looked toward the door but they were alone; no stranger coming in at the eleventh hour to save the day again. It was just her and Booth. Gently, Brennan rested her hand on his check, closing her eyes as she remembered his touch from only hours before. She hadn't thought this morning that they'd be here again, that this was the way it all would end.

Brennan felt cheated, felt duped by some higher power; if there was one, It seemed interested only in making a game out of her. Giving her another chance, forcing her to let down her guard, to let someone over the walls that she had put up to protect herself, convincing her that it was okay to trust, to fall in love, to let someone else in and then taking it all away. It was as though the second chance had only been to prolong the amusement of whomever was pulling the strings; her love for Booth hadn't been strong enough before but now that it was, now that he was all she thought about, that he was all she wanted, it was okay to take him from her. And what about her regrets? They were far from gone now because she would forever regret never being able to have another morning with Booth, another evening, another everything with him.

"Booth…why did you do that?" Brennan felt her anger returning, directed at herself for being too slow, at Grayson for managing to ruin so many lives with a second's worth of foolish thought and at Booth, for always putting himself in danger, for her. "Haven't you learned by now that I'm not worth it?" Brennan sniffed, angrily wiping away her tears. She leaned forward, kissing him softly before resting her forehead against hers, closing her eyes briefly, allowing herself to imagine that they were just as they were this morning, twined together, believing they were inseparable. "Now what? Now what am I supposed to do without you?"

More tears fell down her cheats and Brennan tried to gain some sort of control over herself but she could feel the world falling apart around her, couldn't breathe, couldn't think past Booth…Booth and how much she needed him, how much she loved him. She had never wanted to be the person who's life was made up of someone else, to have someone else be as important as herself but she felt now that Booth was the person to change all of that, she could feel it now as she thought about life without him. What kind of existence would that be? She was no longer enough.

"You promised…" Brennan's voice was barely above as whisper, she was hardly aware that she was speaking at all. "You promised you'd never leave me." And she felt extremely alone. "You promised. What am I supposed to do now…"

Brennan lost herself to her tears now, holding onto Booth tightly, trying to keep him with her.

And then he moved. Or maybe she was the one that moved, Brennan wasn't entirely sure. Regardless, Brennan jerked back, untangling herself from Booth, like she had been shot with an electrical current, her breath stuck in her throat, her heart frozen in her chest. Booth was still and Brennan felt like it was all a trick of her mind, felt herself break all over again but then she noticed a slight, albeit pained, smile playing ever so softly on his lips and his eyes fluttered open. Brennan couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't take her eyes off him.

"What's with the water-works, Bones?" Booth's voice was gruff, hoarse, and thick with a mixture of pain and the sedatives that were dripping into him. There had been a time when he'd thought he would never see her face again and she looked more beautiful to him then she ever had before. She also looked like a complete wreck, like a woman who's entire world had just fallen down around her and Booth would do anything to make her smile, to assure her that everything was going to be all right. "You didn't think I'd actually leave, did you?" He raised an eyebrow and tried to smile but found it quite difficult because he'd never felt less like smiling before in his life.

For a moment, Brennan only stared at him, any reply frozen in her throat. Instead she just rested her face against his shoulder and cried, feeling the world go rushing past her; everything fell away except Booth and the fact that he was still alive, that he hadn't left her, that this really was her second chance.

Grimacing slightly, Booth used the arm Brennan wasn't laying across to alternate between holding her close and rub her back soothingly, knowing that there was nothing he could do until she had cried out all of her fear and panic, until she had gotten her feet back under her. Sniffing, Brennan lifted her head, looking slightly embarrassed at her sudden fit of tears. Gently, Booth wiped her tears off her checks, trying to give her a sincere smile through the pain and medication. "Hey, it's all right. I'm here." It was a promise.

Before Brennan could say anything the door swung open and the doctor entered, the nurse a few steps behind him; the man looked slightly annoyed with her and unsure of what to say. "You can't be in here, Dr. Brennan." He informed her tartly.

Brennan straightened, wiping the rest of her tears away as she looked at the doctor. "He's alive." She wasn't sure if it was a statement or an accusation.

The doctor pursed his lips. "Of course he is. You would have known that if you hadn't gone running off before I could finish a sentence." He raised an eyebrow, looking like a parent scolding an impetuous child.

Rolling his eyes, Booth sighed. "What happened to never jumping to conclusions, Bones?" He questioned.

Brennan had no words for either of them, felt like there was nothing more to say at that moment.

* * *

Soon after the doctor's arrival, Brennan returned to the waiting room, sheepish but happy and relieved, not surprised to see her emotions reflected on the faces of her team members. They, too, didn't seem to have any words, just smiles and sighs of contentment, satisfied with the idea that they were all still together, that everything was going to be all right. Before too long Booth was moved into a recovery room, where Brennan and the rest of the team actually had permission to go.

For the next several hours, Booth slept and they kept a vigil outside his room, occupying the blue plastic chairs outside the room, still waiting. The atmosphere among them was much different now, no one seemed to mind the hours spent doing nothing but passing the time, waiting for news, for Booth to wake up, for something to happen. The important thing had all ready happened and that was all that mattered.

Rebecca and her latest boy-toy brought Parker by the hospital later that afternoon. Parker's arms were loaded with stuffed animals with _get well soon_ balloons tied around their necks, seeming, for the most part, oblivious to how close he had come to losing his father earlier that day. Rebecca's face was pale and wane, but she, too, seemed acutely aware that most of the danger had passed. She and Brennan met eyes upon her arrival, two women who had just been put through nearly identical experiences. Rebecca didn't envy the doctor one bit when she noticed that the forensic anthropologist had finally fallen in love with her partner; she'd made the decision to avoid moments like this but Brennan was in for quite a lot of them and Rebecca could tell that she wasn't going to take the easy way out of the relationship to avoid them.

For the most part, Rebecca and her boyfriend kept to themselves, sharing horrid cups of coffee and keeping out of the conversations shared by the others. Angela and Hodgins entertained Parker with a variety of games until Parker grew tired of them and made Zack audience to the naming of all the stuffed animals he had brought, only to move onto Cam, who helped him embellish the animals' stories, while Brennan just waited, casting the occasional glance into Booth's room just to make sure that everything was as it should be; she felt like she could wait forever, that nothing could compare to those agonizing minutes she'd spent in the OR.

Eventually, Booth woke up, groggy and disoriented from the pain medication that he had been loaded up on. But he managed to give Parker all the appropriate reactions as his son gave him a detailed account of the get-well animals that he would now be sharing his room with. The Squints paraded through his room, one-at-a-time, abiding the rules laid down by the strict nurse who had been keeping an eye on the group all afternoon; he listened in relative silence while Angela gushed over how scared she'd been and how if he ever, _ever_ pulled a stunt like that again she'd kill him herself. Zack's visit was the shortest because Booth quickly kicked him out after the young doctor started going into detail of why he should be dead at the moment. Brennan was last, after everyone else had had their say, their assurance that Booth really was all right and had relented to going home for a few hours, to give Booth a chance to "rest and heal" though Angela knew there'd be no resting or healing with Brennan around.

When Brennan entered the room, Booth gave her a soft, tired smile; she pulled up a chair, sat beside him and took his hand, feeling like she could just sit here forever, knowing that Booth was all right. For a minute they sat in a comfortable silence and Booth could feel himself beginning to drift off, as much as he wanted to stay awake with her. "You shouldn't have done that." Brennan remarked suddenly and Booth looked at her in confusion. "You shouldn't have stepped in front of me."

Booth sighed heavily. Stubborn, thick-headed Brennan. "That guy was going to shoot you." Brennan was still inclined to disagree. "And, now I know you're going to think this is crazy but, guys don't like it when the woman they love is about to get shot."

"I could have taken care of myself." Brennan remarked, just as she often did when the battle of testosterone versus estrogen came up.

Scoffing, Booth rolled his eyes. "No offense Bones but I don't even think you could have taken on a bullet."

Brennan pursed her lips, frowning. "But still…it would have been better that way." Booth opened his mouth to protest. "Do you have any idea what it was like? Thinking that you were dead."

"Why did you think I was dead anyway?" Booth questioned, watching her closely. "You never jump to conclusions." He reminded.

Sighing, Brennan was silent for a moment. "You're going to think that I'm crazy." She muttered and Booth raised an eyebrow. Maybe it was the fact that she trusted Booth implicitly, that she wanted to allow herself to open up and share every part of herself with him or maybe it was the fact that Booth was on a great deal of medication at the moment and might not remember their conversation anyway but Brennan found herself telling him everything, starting with the murder of Tommy Sour, the way he had been shot by Pam Nunan while _again_ taking a bullet that should have been hers and how she had stood in that very OR room, trying to fathom how she was going to face a life without him, realizing for the first time that she did, in fact, honestly love him, when the strange man had walked in and everything had irrationally begun again. She even confused that her nightmares had absolutely nothing to do with snakes and everything to do with her fear and panic over losing him.

Booth was silent the entire time, letting her cover every detail of the life he had no memory of and the way it bled into this one. When she was finished, Booth raised an eyebrow. "You're right. I do think you're crazy." Brennan shot him a look and have gave her a sleepy smile. "Bones, you, of all people, should know that stuff doesn't happen."

Stung, Brennan was about to protest when she realized that he was giving her a hard time, that somewhere in the back of his mind, somehow, he believed what she was saying. "So you think it's true, than?" She raised a doubtful eyebrow.

"I think you know whether it's true or not." Booth replied and Brennan pursed her lips. "And whatever plan the Big Guy's got," he shrugged as much as he could at the moment, "far be it from me to question it."

Brennan was quick to argue. "I don't think this is a question of religion, I mean there is absolutely no proof that any kind of God was-"

But Booth interrupted, shaking his head. "Bones, c'mon, I'm in the hospital, recovering from a bullet wound, can't you just…" He searched for the right phrase. "Be quiet."

Rolling her eyes, Brennan couldn't help but smile. She rested her head against his arm, listening as his breathing slowly grew steadier as he slipped into sleep once more. "I love you, Booth." She whispered, softly, knowing that he couldn't hear her but saying the words anyway.

Before too long, Brennan herself drifted off to sleep, content with not needing to process everything, to make sense of what had happened to her before that had led to her in this current moment. For the first time, she wasn't filled with the need to predict the way things would go, to brace for any sort of imagined inevitability. For the first time, with Booth, she just was and she found a small comfort in the uncertainty of the future. Whatever Divine Intelligence had led her to this point, whatever had happened in that OR before she'd never know, nor would she ever look back on that life and wonder why she had gotten a second chance. She was going to live her life with Booth and make sure that, when that inevitable end did come, she no longer had any regrets.

_Finis _


End file.
